


Last Christmas

by Sanziene



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Minor Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Secret Passages, Snow Storms, Snowball Fight, Snowed In, Winter Wonderland, it's a fluffball of a fic sprinkled with angst, maybe stuffed is more accurate, okay maybe sprinkled is not the right word here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanziene/pseuds/Sanziene
Summary: Finding himself very strapped for cash after his divorce, Jorah does the only thing he can to save his ancestral home, Mormont Castle, he rents it out to curious tourists with bottomless pocketsHis first guest, a large group of friends, show up a few days before Christmas. Amongst them, a beautiful, silver-white haired woman with a smile that could outshine New Year’s fireworks, catches his eyes.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 132
Kudos: 132
Collections: A song of frosted bear kisses and dragon roasted chestnuts





	1. Early November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in a nameless, fictional European country, but the castle exists, it's nestled beautifully in a meadow in the Romanian Carpathians. Its name is Peleș Castle. 
> 
> Edelweiss is a scarce, short-lived flower found in remote mountain areas of the Alps and Carpathians. The folktale you will find in this fic actually exists in my culture.
> 
> It will have a bit of a slow start, but then it picks up in chapter 3 and takes you on a whirlwind. :)

Jorah’s eyes scanned the Excel document on his computer as his fingers rubbed at his temples, trying to keep away a migraine. It was useless, the more he looked at the budget spreadsheet, the more red he saw, and the more the tension at the sides of his head increased. He gave up his finger’s ministrations and slammed a fist onto the ornate, hardwood desk inside his office. He was running out of money, fast. Very fast. Owning a castle was expensive and at this rate, he could only afford to pay for the upkeep and staff of his ancestral home for the next four months, then he would be penniless. 

That hadn’t always been the case, Jorah was born wealthy and had been wealthy all his life, until half a year ago that is, when he lost most of his sizable inheritance in the divorce settlement, or what was left of it after fifteen years of Lynesse's spending habits. Still, he couldn’t complain, the castle and the surrounding land was worth much more than his inheritance. His ex-wife, knew that and she had demanded its sale in the settlement, looking to get half it’s worth, but thanks to Jorah’s bright, young lawyer and Lynesse’s infidelity, he was still the owner of Mormont Castle. 

Jorah had many regrets, some concerning his father, others concerning himself and his career choices, or lack thereof, and most regarding his now ex-wife, but he didn’t regret losing all that money, not when it meant he got to keep Mormont Castle, not when he would have given _anything_ to do so, even the skin off his back. The thought of losing it made him physically sick, he had failed much in his life, had chosen wrong so many times, but he _could not_ be the one responsible for losing his ancestral home.

“You should rent it,” Samwell, his young, but very bright attorney had advised him. “There are plenty of rich folks that would love to spend their vacations in an old, beautiful castle such as yours. It’s picture-perfect, almost fairytale-like.” He had said with a smile on his face, a few months back, “A remote castle, high up in the mountains, set in a clearing surrounded by fragrant fir and beech trees, who wouldn’t want that? And they’ll pay top coin for it too.”

Jorah had dismissed the advice then, but that had been _then,_ back when his financial situation did not look so bleak, back when he still had a trace of optimism left in him. He had been a fool, a rich fool that had paid little mind to how expensive owning a castle was. The upkeep that had barely made a dent in his bank account back when he still had money, was now biting off a sizable chunk each month. He couldn’t keep it up, not when there was no income coming in. His only other option was to sell some of the land surrounding the castle, some of the forest. The lumber mill in town would buy it in a second, and there would be one, maybe two more zeros at the end of his balance, but then they would come with their men and their chainsaws and cut down the trees that have watched him, and his father and his father before him grow from boys into men. He could never do that.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Jorah said without preamble, entering Samwell’s office, “But _how_ do I rent it out? I don’t want some spoiled trust fund kids ruining three-hundred years of history while drunk, or high.”

“You were a trust fund kid too if I recall correctly… ”

“I was different!” Jorah objected, feeling a little frustrated that Samwell knew that, but of course, he did, he had access to his entire financial and personal history. 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Samwell placated, and that irritated Jorah, for he _had been different_. He hadn’t spent his trust fund on parties, outrageous shopping sprees or trips around the world. He had lived a very comfortable life, yes, but there had been no excesses, not until fifteen years ago when he had met Lynesse, who had convinced him that he didn’t need to work a day in his life and that money was for spending, not keeping. _Trickle-down economics, darling._

“I’ll get you in touch with Gilly, my wife,” Samwell said, taking Jorah out of his head, “she’s a realtor, she’ll have all the answers for you.”

*

Gilly, Jorah found, was a lovely, young woman who seemed to be as nice and as kind as her husband, the kind of person that you took a liking to instantly, without even realizing, or wanting to. 

“You know,” she started as soon as she had offered him a seat at her desk, “when I was a little girl I used to picture living inside your castle, I was the princess exploring each of its one hundred and sixty rooms, rummaging through it, discovering its secrets, playing on the grounds…” 

Her eyes twinkled and she smiled broadly, and Jorah did not have the heart to tell her that if she had lived inside the castle, she wouldn’t have been allowed to do any of those things. He hadn’t. Mormont castle was his ancestral home, but it had never been a true _home,_ everything inside it was too filled with history, too valuable to be touched, let alone played with. _‘Beautiful things are to be looked at, admired from afar, not touched. The touch spoils them, dirties them, and we can’t have that, my boy. We are mere custodians, keeping them safe for the next Mormonts.'_ His father had said growing up, always keeping him in check, keeping him from enjoying his childhood. And now he found himself the last Mormont, forty years of age and childless, trying his best to be the custodian for future Mormonts that he was sure would never come to be. 

“Ah, and in the winter,” Gilly continued sounding wistful, “I would look up from the town and see it nestled in the forest clearing, surrounded by a blanket of snow, the barren mountain peaks behind it, it was so beautiful. It _is_ beautiful.” She giggled slightly, “And later, when I was a teenager, and the castle would get snowed in—Remember that?” Jorah nodded, and she continued, “Because the roads going up the mountain would freeze over and become unmanageable… yeah, that was my favorite fantasy, being snowed in inside that castle for days and days, just me and the heir—” Gilly’s eyes bulged and her cheeks flushed, suddenly realizing that she was confessing her teenage girl fantasy to that very same heir. 

Jorah chuckled inwardly. He knew of course that he had been in many of the town girl’s fantasies, but he also knew that almost none of those fantasies were about _him_. They were about the heir to the castle, _the prince_ —even though he was not a prince— that they had seen in countless movies, the prince that could whisk them away to a different, better life, filled with riches. Lynesse had thought that, had turned him into that, then ran as soon as the money had stopped flowing, as soon as she found the fantasy to be just that, a fantasy.

Gilly cleared her throat and straightened some already straight papers, then continued, in a much more professional tone. “You won’t have any issues asking for top rates for the castle, it’s secluded, beautiful, and opulent. The castle is… idyllic, truly. It could be a great wedding venue, people would wait for years just to have their special day in your castle.”

“No weddings!” Jorah said sharply, without even realizing. “Maybe… maybe later, but not just yet,” he added more softly, feeling sorry for his outburst. Gilly was trying to help him, it was not her fault that his heart still felt raw after his divorce and could not stand to watch happy couples embark on their new life together in the same place that his own marriage had turned to cinders. 

“Okay, we can revisit that in a while,” Gilly said with a smile. “The winter holidays are about a month away, we can open the castle then, that will give you the time you need to prepare it for guests.” 

Jorah groaned inwardly as images of foreign feet trampling the old hardwood floors came to mind, those same feet walking over the irreplaceable antique rugs. 

“Since this is such a _different_ property I think I will be able to screen the potential guests.” 

Images of greasy fingers touching all that Jorah had not been allowed to touch growing up, or even worse, breaking or stealing everything that was not nailed down, played like a movie inside his head.

He felt sick. 

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you!”

*

Jorah spent the next month preparing the castle for guests by selecting and carefully putting aside all the things that meant too much to have them stolen or broken. He was a bit surprised to find that the most precious possessions were not always the most expensive, like his mother’s collection of vases. None of them were Ming dynasty or Murano glass, they were made by old, calloused hands of nameless men and women that had lived in the towns and villages around the castle. But his mother had loved and cherished those glass and clay creations and so, they were more valuable to him than ancient porcelain. He could still remember scouring the forest around the castle, hand in hand with his mother, looking for wildflowers to fill them.

 _‘Oh, no, my little bear cub, not that one_ ,’ his mother had said long ago, as his eight-year-old self had beckoned her toward a silver bloom of flowers nestled between sharp rocks. They were searching for flowers higher up in the mountains than usual, so high that the trees had given up their upward climb and let grass and moss rule over the land. ‘ _That one is special, an Edelweiss. See,’_ she had said with a smile, gently placing a finger underneath its silver, fuzzy petal, _‘it’s like fresh snowfall in summer, or a fallen star.’_

 _‘Or cotton candy?’_ He had asked, eyes wide. 

_‘Or like cotton candy.’_ His mother had agreed with a chuckle, then let her finger slide from under the petal and caressed her son’s cheek with it. _‘Give me your hand,'_ she said, with a smile and Jorah did. His mother placed his tiny finger under a petal, letting him marvel at the flower’s softness. _‘It would be a shame to pluck it,'_ she added, ' _when it bloomed so beautifully on rugged bedrock, away from nurturing soil. When it will only last for just a few days, don’t you think so, bear cub?’_

Jorah wiped a tear from his eyes at the memory. A few months later he had learned a very valuable lesson, one he wished he hadn't been forced to learn so early in life, he learned that all the money in the world couldn’t buy more time, more life for anyone, not even his mother. 

Now, going through the castle and locking up rooms where his _guests_ would not be allowed to enter and grabbing the valuables from the ones where they would be allowed entry, Jorah had found that there was a fine line between keeping the Mormont treasures safe and making the castle look barren, but he thought that he’d reached that tender balance. Down in the basement, piles and piles of properly organized and categorized artworks, glassworks, old clocks, and silverware, as well as all sorts of other artifacts awaited behind two locked doors for a time when they could be brought back to their original home, a time when strangers wouldn’t roam the castle like ancient ghosts. 

Also during that month, Jorah moved his residence from inside the castle to the old stable house. Once upon a time, it had housed the castle’s horses and carriages, as well as the coachmen and stable boys, but around ten years ago, right after his father’s death, Jorah had converted the house into a woodworking shop and guest house. He didn’t mind living there, about five minutes' walk from the castle. The two-bedroom house suited him much better, he liked the coziness and warmth, especially now that winter had settled in for the season. Somehow, no matter how much wood the furnaces and stoves burned, the castle was never warm enough. Not to his liking. _But then again,_ Jorah thought, _maybe the warmth had never been a matter of temperature._ And here, in the stable house, he was steps away from his woodshop, the place he felt most at home, carving up wood from his forest, giving it new life and purpose as pieces of furniture or art. 

He was in that shop, working on an end table, when Gilly called, sounding excited.

“I have found you the perfect group of renters for the holidays. They’re wanting to stay from the 22nd to the 27th, they want the entire castle and they’re willing to pay _way more_ than the asking price!”

“What’s the catch?”

“There’s no… ” Gilly’s voice trailed off. “Well, they want the whole experience.”

“What does that mean?” 

“The guy I’ve been corresponding with, Joffrey, he wants the _royal_ experience, wants himself and his group to be treated as if _they're_ the masters of the castle.” 

Jorah groaned into his phone.

“I know, I know. He’s probably a prick, but he’s a rich prick, from a good family and most importantly, I’ll take care of everything! I’ll talk to your regular staff about it, ask them nicely to go along, beg if I have to, give them nice Christmas bonuses too, probably hire a few more people. It will be fine, it’s just five nights. They’ll pass by in a blink and you’ll be swimming in cash.” Gilly said, then told him just how much cash and Jorah muffled a curse word. 

Even after paying for the extra help, plus their bonuses and Gilly taking out her cut, it would still leave him with enough money to cover the castle’s upkeep for around five months, or to finally start renovation work on the west wing. 

“Fine,” Jorah acquiesced, but put a clause in the contract that if they get out of hand or break or steal something, _anything_ , I’m kicking their wannabe asses into the snow and keeping the money.”

“Consider it done!”


	2. December 22nd

Standing in the clock tower, Jorah looked down at the cobbled road that led up the mountain and watched as two Range Rovers and a poorly equipped for winter Bentley SUV made their way to the parking spaces behind the castle. _Rich and stupid,_ Jorah thought, as he made his way down the circular staircase to greet his first ever guests. 

When he reached the main entrance, he exchanged a look with Osha, his head housekeeper, who, at Joffrey’s request, and Gilly’s pleading, had dressed up in old fashioned maid’s clothes; an ankle-length black dress with a white apron on top. There was no white cap on her head though, ‘ _If you ask me to put that bonnet on, I’ll personally shove it right up your—‘_ Osha had threatened Gilly, who had immediately dropped the suggestion. 

Joffrey, or _the prick_ , as they not-so-affectionately referred to him, had asked for the ' _real experience,'_ but the prick had just fancied himself in an episode of Downton Abbey, for the real, _contemporary_ experience would have been Osha, dressed in her everyday clothes, freely running her mouth at him as she did her job. 

Jorah mouthed a _sorry_ at her, the fourth that day, and Osha plastered a fake smile on her face, though her eyes still shot daggers. The smile, for the guests, the daggers from him, Jorah knew, he was quite accustomed to those daggers; _they_ were the true, real experience.

“Watch the Louis Vuitton!” He heard coming from the terrace and was willing to bet that that obnoxious voice came from the mouth of _the prick_. Jorah poked his head around the threshold and watched as Hodor, dressed as a footman, struggled to carry more bags than humanly possible. 

Without a second thought, he made towards Hodor, passing a blond young man and a silver-haired one. “Here, let me,” he said, grabbing two, checkered canvas bags from Hodor’s hands. “You can always make more than one trip,” he said softly, teacherly, to the man. 

“Hodor,” Hodor replied, nodding his head and Jorah smiled. He cared for Hodor, as he cared for Osha and the rest of his staff. They were his _people_ , and even as his finances dwindled he could not let them go. Osha would find something, he had no doubt, something much better, for she was bright and hardworking. But Hodor… he didn’t think he would, and if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be treated kindly by everyone, not like he was treated here, so Jorah had vowed to keep Hodor on until the last of his pennies were spent. 

As Jorah positioned another checked bag over one of the trolley's handle he noticed more people climbing up the short flight of stairs to the terrace. All of them, except the dwarf, had their hands full with luggage of all sizes. _So they’re not all cunts,_ Jorah thought, then made his way past the two empty-handed men and into the castle, where he set the luggage down and waited for his guest in the antechamber, already cursing himself for agreeing to let strangers into his home.

“Jorah Mormont,” Jorah said, extending a hand towards the blond-haired young man who seemed surprised to find that the man that had carried their luggage was also their host and owner of the castle.

“Joffrey Baratheon,” the young man said, giving him a half limp hand that Jorah squeezed just a little harder than he should have. 

“Nice grip you have there,” Joffrey said, flexing his hand and giving him a crooked smile, “I, myself, I’m not much for manual labor.”

“Nor am I,” the silver-haired one said extending his hand, “Viserys Targaryen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jorah lied.

“This place is Ah-Mazing!” A beautiful, redheaded woman exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Joffrey. “I’m Sansa, and this is Doreah, she added, tilting her head at another beautiful woman, with big eyes and chocolate hair.”

“I do hope my nephew hasn’t given you a hard time, he can be a little bit of a prick sometimes,” a small in stature, but seemingly big in personality man said as he extended a hand to shake Jorah’s. “Tyrion, and you must be the king of the castle.”

“No king, Lord, once upon a time, maybe. But now just Jorah, Jorah Mormont.”

“Beautiful place you have here, Mormont, must cost a fortune in upkeep.”

“That it does.”

Tyrion positioned himself in the antechamber, halfway blocking everyone’s path and continued chatting _to_ , not with Jorah about the castle and the cost of labor as the rest of his guests trickled in, giving they _hellos_ and names as they did. There was Shae, who was well over a head taller than Tyrion and had lovingly placed the palm of her hands on Tyrion’s shoulder, listening to him talk. After that, an Arya and Gendry had said their hellos followed by a Missandei and Torgo, the latter giving his in a thick accent. Lastly, a silver-haired woman made her way in, followed by a dark-haired man. 

“Hi!” She said to Jorah, almost nudging Tyrion away with her hips and extending a hand, “I’m Daenerys Targaryen, such a beautiful home you have, thank you for letting us share it with you.”

Jorah blinked, half surprised to hear words of gratitude coming from someone that was somehow related to the silver-headed man who couldn’t bother to carry his own bags, and half taken aback by her beauty. All his lady guests were young and beautiful, some in their own way, most outright gorgeous, but there was something about her, Daenerys, that almost took his breath away. Purple tinted eyes looked up at him with warmth from under bushy eyebrows that seemed to have a life of their own, and her big, wide smile lit up the castle better than New Years' Eve fireworks did in the old days, and that silver-white hair of hers... It reminded him of _something._ He had to resist the urge to have his fingers run through it just to know if it was as soft as it looked. 

“My pleasure,” Jorah said with a smile of his own and it was not a lie. 

“I’m Jon,” the last of his guest, a handsome, young man, said wrapping an arm around Daenerys waist while extending the other to Jorah. 

Jorah shook his hand and nodded, his eyes trailing toward where Jon’s hand now clung to the crest of Dany’s hip.

“Well, now that the introductions have been made…” Tyrion said clapping his hands together. 

“Yes, of course,” Jorah said blinking away his momentary stupor. 

He quickly introduced the group to his staff, then gave them a short tour of the castle. “Feel free to choose whatever bedroom you want, as long as it’s not locked.”

“Where’s the Lord’s bedroom?” Joffrey asked and Jorah knew he would. “I want that one.” 

_Of course, you do, you little prick._ The Lord’s bedroom had been his father and mother’s room, then, at Lynesse’s request, their room. He had wanted to lock it, the thought of strangers sleeping and fucking in his bed didn’t sit well with him, but he knew that the prick would most likely want it for himself. He was not surprised to find himself right. 

“It’s on the second floor, ready to receive guests,” Jorah said as politely as he could. “Lunch will be served in an hour, dinner is at seven, by eight the staff will depart for the day, and return in the morning at 7.”

“Huh,” Joffrey huffed.

“I imagined we’d have help 24/7!” Viserys added.

“People have lives!” Daenerys objected to Viserys’ outburst, “Excuse my brother,” she added looking up at Jorah, “I’m sure we’ll be fine by ourselves, we’re not children. Or at least I’m not.”

“If there’s anything you need, any of you,” Jorah said, “I’ll be a few minutes away.”

“Are you not residing in the castle, with us?” Tyrion asked.

“No, it is all yours. I only ask that you treat it with the respect it deserves.”

“Of course,” Tyrion said, followed by voices that echoed his statement.

“Will you join us for dinner?” Missandei asked, "I’d love to hear more about the castle."

“I’m afraid I’m otherwise engaged for the evening,” Jorah lied, “but I will come by in the morning, make sure everything was to your liking.” 

Jorah nodded his goodbye and smiled a toothless smile, then made his way to the kitchen, where he found Osha, busy supervising the lunch preparations. “Don’t let them treat you poorly,” he said and Osha gave him a piercing look. “Yes, I know, you’re a tough, take-no-shit cookie, but I wanted to say that, to be _clear_ on it.”

“Thanks,” Osha offered.

“And watch out for Hodor, if this gets too much for him, bring him back to the kitchen, let him hang out here until you take him home. Okay?”

“Yes, _master._ ” Osha rolled her eyes. She didn’t need that reminder, Jorah knew she cared for Hodor just as much as he did, or even more.

 _The real experience of contemporary castle staff_. Jorah thought. Or at least, staff that were more than just staff, they were friends, family even. 

“I got this.” She offered, her voice soft, “Don’t worry!”

“Thanks,” Jorah said, patting Osha on the back. “I’m off for the day. Call me if there’s any issue, and I mean _any_ issue.”

“Will do, _master._ ”

“Please don’t call me that ever again!” Jorah said, and Osha burst into laughter.

As Jorah made his way back to his modest house, bundled up against the cold, northern wild, he couldn’t help but feel his stomach turning. For all intents and purposes he had relinquished Mormont Castle, be it even for a little while, to complete strangers, some of them utter twats, like Joffrey and Viserys. But Viserys’ sister… the thought of her made his stomach grow winged creatures. So beautiful, so nice, so unlike her brother. And there was something about her that reminded him of … of what he didn’t know, of _something_. 

Jorah opened the door and felt like he melted as soon as his frozen cheeks became enveloped by the warmth of his new home. And then it hit him. 

_Edelweiss._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, we'll be getting into the meat of things with a much longer chapter.


	3. December 23rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off :)
> 
> Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> Hope you'll find that the wait was worth it.

Yesterday, Jorah had busied himself in the workshop, trying not to think of his guests rummaging through his castle, trying not to think of one in particular. He had failed on both accounts, but thankfully there had been no calls, not from any of his guests, nor from Osha. Everything seemed to be... _okay_. 

Still, he had slept poorly and awoken early the next day. Having nothing better to do with himself, he made his way to the castle. It was still dark as he traced a path through the fresh blanket of snow, hearing it crackle under his boots. He would need to have Hodor clear the path today, as well as the terrace, probably the parking lot too, so that his guests could go explore the town if they were so inclined. He was still thinking of that, and all the other little things that had to be done today when he entered the large kitchen, not bothering to turn the lights on and went straight for the coffee maker. His house didn’t have one as fancy as this one and he really enjoyed his morning coffee. He was an early riser, had been one all his life, he liked the quiet of the very early mornings, when all the world was still asleep and he could be by himself with his thoughts and plan out the day. Jorah grabbed his coffee mug and placed it on the smaller one of the kitchen’s two large, wooden islands, settling in to enjoy his hot drink. 

He was almost halfway finished with his coffee, content to have his mind wander as he watched the pale, yellow light of the Christmas lights dance through the windows, casting shadows throughout the kitchen, when he heard footsteps. One quick glance at his watch told him it was 6 in the morning. Too early for Osha, Hodor and the rest to come in, not unless one of the two pricks had requested them to. But surely Osha would have told him that. Jorah winced as the lights turned on, then saw a flash of silver locks.

_Edelweiss._

To his surprise, Daenerys seemed too busy rummaging through cabinet after cabinet looking for God knows what to notice him. Or maybe she had and not bothered to say anything. Jorah watched as she rose on the tip of her house slippers trying to peek inside the upper cabinets, how her pale-pink shirt lifted away from her fleece pajama pants just enough to give him a two-finger wide flash of her skin.

Jorah cleared his throat, feeling like a stalker, and Daenerys yelped, almost jumping out of her slippers. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said honestly, sounding as apologetic as he could. 

“Shit! ... Hi!” Dany said, a hand to her heaving chest, “I thought you were a ghost.”

Jorah could not keep a chuckle from leaving his lips. “I’ve lived here almost all my life and I have yet to see a ghost.” He pressed his lips together to keep at bay a smile that was begging to be seen as he watched Daenerys quicky comb her hair down with her fingers. Clearly, she did not expect company. “Can I… can I help you find something?”

“Uhm... tea?”

“Next one over to your left.”

“Thank you.” She said as she opened the cabinet and found a pack she liked, “Are you sure there are no ghosts here?” She asked turning to face him, “Such an old place, so much history… ”

“No ghosts, promise.”

“Kettle?” Daenerys asked. 

“Two over to your right. Lower cabinets.” Jorah said, another smile pulling at his lips. This woman who he had met barely a day ago wandered through his kitchen as if she had lived there for years. He found he didn't hate the thought. “Was everything okay last night?” Jorah asked, wondering why she was up so early when the rest of her group seemed to be still fast asleep.

“Yes, thank you, everything was lovely,” Daenerys said, turning to him after filling up the kettle with water. “Dinner was great, sorry you couldn’t be there, and this place… ” she said biting her bottom lip and shaking her head in disbelief, “it’s incredible, I never wanna leave it.” 

Jorah smiled. 

“You’re an early riser.” They both found themselves saying at the same time a moment later and chuckled at it. 

“I am,” Jorah agreed. 

“I’m not, not usually. But I couldn’t sleep very well last night.”

“Oh?!”

“No, it's fine, it happens to me whenever I am in a new, unfamiliar place. It will be better tonight.” She smiled then turned to put the kettle on the old stove. “Mugs?” She asked, “And, oh, I’m sorry, would you like some tea?”

Jorah pointed to another cabinet. “No, thank you, and I’m sorry, I should be the one offering to make it for you, you’re my guest.”

“Pfff, I can make my own, I’m not a child, or my brother… or Joffrey.”

“You are definitely not those two.” Jorah said, then apologized. It was not his place to speak ill of her friends.

“Don’t worry about it, those two, they’re… _special._ ” 

“How do you all know each other, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Family friends. The Starks, Targaryens, Baratheons, and Lannisters have been… _mingling_ for generations. Doreah is my brother’s girlfriend, Shae is Tyrion’s, Missandei is my best friend and Torgo is her boyfriend. That’s the abridged version anyway.” 

Jorah nodded, taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. Maybe he should have taken up on her offer for tea, even though he rarely drank tea. 

“What’s _your_ story?”

“My story?” Jorah blinked, “Oh, the same, age-old one; rich kid who squandered away the family fortune on trips around the world, endless parties and a conveyor belt of women is now forced to rent out his ancestral home to make ends meet.” He wasn’t sure where that had come from, maybe a trace of his old self, from back before life hand ground down his edges. 

Daenerys chewed on her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes on him as if trying to decide if she believed him or not, “Neah. I don’t buy it.”

Curious, Jorah continued with the game, “And why not?”

“You don’t seem… _the type._ That would be more of a Joffrey or Viserys thing to do, Tyrion too. ”

“And what type do I seem?” Jorah asked, but he did not get an answer for the whistle on the kettle started blowing.

“Saved by the kettle!” Daenerys exclaimed, turning to make her tea. 

“What plans do you guys have for the day?” Jorah asked deciding to drop the silly, little game.

“We were supposed to go skiing and snowboarding,” she said as she dunked the teabag in her mug full of hot water, “but I’m not sure if that’s gonna happen, most of the guys got really drunk last night, I don’t think they’ll be up for a long while, and when they are, I doubt they'll be in any shape for physical activity.” 

“I see.”

“What are _your_ plans?”

Jorah blinked, unsure what to say. _Keeping an eye on you,_ didn’t seem appropriate, even if ' _you'_ was the plural form and not the singular. “I… I don’t have plans for this evening, I could join you for dinner, aargh, I mean, all of you for dinner, if the invitation still stands, of course.”

“Brilliant, yes! That would be lovely, I have so many questions about this place and I bet you have a million stories to tell.”

“I have a few.”

Dany grabbed her mug and sat herself at the same island as Jorah, right across from him. 

“You could start now,” she said with a cheeky smile. “Are there any secret passageways, secret rooms?” 

“A few.”

“Ah!” Dany exclaimed, delight all over her face. “Show me!”

 _No, it’s too early for that, and you are still a stranger, I am not showing you my castle’s, my home's secrets_ , Jorah thought, but Daenerys looked as excited as a kid on Christmas day, he didn't have the heart to let her down. “On one condition,” he said. 

“Anything, literally _anything_ , you name it!” 

“You are not to tell a soul.”

“Deal!”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise, see…” she said as she grabbed Jorah’s hand and wrapped her pinky finger around his, “pinky promise!”

Jorah looked at the little, delicate finger wrapped around his longer one. She felt warm, like heat was radiating from her as if from a fire. That heat settled somewhere in his stomach. “Okay.”

Dany put down her mug and pulled Jorah by their still connected pinkies, “Let's go!”

“What about your tea?”

“Tea can wait, adventure can’t!”

It was _funny_ , how he found himself dragged out of his kitchen by his pinky by a complete stranger who had no idea where she was going. It was even _funnier_ how she didn’t feel like a stranger, but like a long lost friend. Like a friendship that had been put on pause for years and years and then _play_ had been pressed as they reconnected, or in their case, met for the first time. 

Outside the sun hadn’t risen, it wouldn’t for an hour still, the only light in the castle came from the outside Christmas lights. It would've been enough to properly navigate the castle if their eyes hadn’t been accustomed to the LED lights of the kitchen. 

“Do you have a flashlight on your phone?” Dany asked ambling in the darkness. “I left mine upstairs.” 

Jorah patted down his pockets with his free hand, “It seems I have done the same. We could turn on some lights but—"

“No, that’s fine, more mysterious. Our eyes will adjust, there was enough light for me to make it down to the kitchen.”

“I’ve walked this place for forty years, I could walk it blindfolded… Give me your hand, I’ll guide you,” he said, letting go of her pinky and placing the same hand underneath hers, waiting.

“Forty years, huh… ” Dany said, then said nothing else for a moment or two. Finally, she wrapped her hand around his. 

Her hand in his, his in hers, his stomach twisting almost painfully while his heart beat a drum solo loud enough to play between his ears, Jorah walked Daenerys towards the library. 

Their eyes had begun to adjust, just as Dany had said, but there were no windows in the library, all the walls were covered with ornate bookshelves that were in turn filled with volumes and volumes of books. The room was darker than a grave. Yet Jorah still knew every row, every shelf, every book in the library. He hadn’t read most of the volumes in there, some were boring as hell, others were written in languages Jorah couldn’t even begin to understand, but he had read some and he knew all the books by their bindings, their names, their location. 

“The library!” Daenerys said, as her free hand touched the book covers, “It’s always the library, isn’t it?”

“It is, and there’s a reason why,” Jorah said letting go of her hand, for he needed both hands to open the secret door. 

“Hey, that’s not fair!” She complained as she heard the soft creak of hinges, realizing that she had not seen how to open the secret door, or where it was. 

Jorah chuckled slightly, then grabbed her hand again, pulling her slowly through the narrow door, into an even narrower corridor. “There are a few steps here, be careful,” he said and made his way up, slowly guiding her.

“What’s the reason?” Dany whispered.

“Libraries were important, _are_ important, knowledge is held in them, that’s why it’s desirable to have quick access to them from let’s say… your office,” another soft creek of hinges reached their ears as a secret door opened into a large, ornate office. 

Unlike the library, the office had four windows, all on the same wall and more than enough light seeped through them. 

Dany let go of his hand and entered the office, her eyes scanning the room as the tips of her fingers traced the furniture. “There is so much wood in this castle! Every other thing is made of wood.”

“They had to do something with all the trees they cleared to build this place.”

“Whose office is this?” 

“Mine.”

“Well, everything here is yours, isn’t it?”

 _Not everything_.

“I actually use this one, unlike 90% of the rooms in this castle.”

Dany’s fingers traced the solid mahogany desk with its intricate faunal carvings. “So beautiful, I’d love to see it in daylight!”

“The castle is yours to roam freely.”

Dany made her way back to Jorah, who had remained by the secret door, “Does the passage go anywhere else?”

“It does.”

“Show me!”

“That wouldn’t be appropriate, it leads into the master bedroom and your friend, Joffrey and I imagine, Sansa, are using it.”

“Yes... you’re right, it wouldn't…” she said, then added, cheekily, “show me anyway!”

Jorah chuckled and found himself surprised to notice that this lithe woman, a head shorter than him could convince him to do just about anything. Without a word, he extended his hand and Dany took it. 

They moved back into the passageway, closing the door behind them, and continued on forward. Jorah stopped a little while further, “This is it.”

“Where?”

“Behind this door,” he said putting their connected hands on a wooden, simple door.

Dany huffed, and while Jorah couldn’t see what she was doing, he was sure she was chewing on her bottom lip.

“You know how in movies they have those painting where the eyes are cut out and you can see inside the room?”

“…Yes… ”

“Do you have that here?”

Jorah chuckled. “Uhm, there’s something of sorts.”

“Can we take a look?”

“No!”

“Please!”

“I really don’t want to see… _anything_ that man might be up to.”

“He drank himself halfway into a coma and Sansa hasn’t awoken earlier than noon in about five years, they’ll just be sleeping.”

“What if they sleep in the nude?”

“That’s just a chance we’ll have to take.”

“No!”

“Sansa’s a silk nightgown kind of girl, and so is Joffrey, well, silk pajamas not nightgown, but you get my point. And it’s just a _little peek_ , come on! No harm, no foul.”

“You should really consider a career in sales, you’re quite convincing.”

“It has been mentioned,” Dany said, batting her eyelashes, even though Jorah couldn't see them, “but I’m gonna stick to my nonprofits.”

“There’s a small mirror on the wall, it’s double-sided.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Oh, Lord!”

“Wait, what did your ancestors use it for?”

“I… don’t… know…, but thank you for putting that thought in my head, I _really_ needed that picture there.” Jorah groaned.

Dany giggled. “Have you used it?”

“No! Not really, not in the way you think, anyway.”

Jorah opened a little latch and light poured inside the passageway, illuminating their faces. On Dany’s face, he saw excitement and mischief. “Knock yourself out,” he said, moving out of the way so she could look inside the bedroom.

“Ha! They’re just sleeping, see!” 

“I’m good,” Jorah said. Daenerys was their friend, _she_ could do inappropriate things like this, he, however, did not know them, nor cared to know them, so it didn’t feel right to spy on them like that.

“And they’re both in their silks! That was a total stab in the dark, I can’t believe I was right.” Daenerys said as she watched Joffrey, spread eagle, face down, occupying two-thirds of the bed, while Sansa slept on her side, on the remaining third. 

While Jorah didn’t look through the mirror, he had looked at Daenerys all the while she spied on the couple, he could see the corner of her lips moving up and if this were a cartoon, he knew he’d see cogs turning inside her head. 

“Where’s the secret door?”

“Six feet to your right.”

“By the corner of the room?”

“Yes.”

He watched as she turned to him slowly, a devilish smile on her face. 

He had the word ' _No'_ on the tip of his tongue, ready to release it as soon as she told him her devilish plan, but Dany said nothing, instead, she combed her fingers through her hair, then raked it in front of her face, covering it. She cleared her throat then fumbled the six feet to the secret door.

“What are you doing?” Jorah asked.

Dany cleared her throat, then said, “Once he’s up, pull me back in, quickly!”

“Dae—” That’s all he managed to say before Dany pushed the door open a smidge, then slid out into the room. 

Jorah watched half in shock, half in horror as Dany positioned herself in the dark corner, her silver-white hair covering her face, and started making a sound similar to gargling, but a lot more close to one he had heard coming out of a ghost in a Japanese horror movie. 

_Goddammit!_ Now he had to look into the bedroom, to know when to pull Daenerys back and quickly close the door behind her, hoping and praying they wouldn’t be caught.

Dany made that low noise in her throat for a while and nothing happened, then Jorah noticed movement on top of the bed. The wannabe Lord of the castle was waking up, while Sansa still slept undisturbed. Even in the poor light, Jorah could see his head lifting from the pillow, slowly.

Joffrey moved his head around a bit, as if looking for the sound of the noise. When his eyes landed on Daenerys, Jorah’s breath caught in his throat, and he wrapped his hand around her arm. 

“What the—?” Jorah heard coming out of Joffrey’s mouth, then Dany let out a short, low scream.

“AAAAH!” He heard the man scream and quickly pulled Dany into the passageway, closing the door behind her and pressing her back to it.

“Sansa! SANSA!” Joffrey screamed loud enough for them to hear it, “Where’s the light, turn the light on!”

Dany chuckled just a little too loud and Jorah found himself placing his hand over her mouth, begging her to keep quiet with his eyes. He didn’t know if she could see him, he could barely see her, the only light source was six feet away, barely making the pitch dark a shade lighter, but his body was pressed to hers in the narrow passageway, her lips touching the palm of his hand, her breath hot on his fingers, the scent of her filling his nostrils. _Fuck!_

“What? What’s wrong?” They heard Sansa’s groggy voice and suddenly he was looking straight into Dany’s eyes and she into his, for Sansa had found the light switch and that light poured through the mirror and into the passageway.

“There’s a… there was a… a… ghost!” Joffrey babbled and Dany snorted under Jorah’s hand. 

“Baaabe! ” Sansa complained. “You had a bad dream, it’s like 7 AM, go back to sleep.”

“But… I could swear… there was a… it had… I saw a ghost, Sansa!”

“Yeah, a hangover ghost,” Sansa said, then Dany and Jorah found themselves in darkness again, for Sansa had turned the light off. 

Jorah removed his hand from her lips. “You’re insane.” He whispered, but there was humor in his voice.

Dany giggled, “He had it coming.”

Jorah couldn’t disagree with that. “We should go.”

“Yeah, there’s more to see.”

“Oh, no!” Jorah said scooting himself out of the way, and going back to the mirror, “we are _definitely_ done with secret passages.”

“But you said a few!” Dany complained, grabbing his hand as soon as they found themselves in complete darkness, for Jorah closed the little mirror latch. “A few is more than one!”

“There were two, the office, then this, remember.” He said as he guided her back down to the library.

“I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“Great instincts.” He said as they reached the library and he halfheartedly let go of her hand.

Dany chuckled. 

The pale light of early morning was now inching its way through the open door of the library, illuminating it enough so they could see each other. Jorah closed the section of the bookshelf and pressed his back to it. He took a moment to look at Daenerys with her fuzzy slippers and her loose shirt and even looser flannel pants, she looked nothing like a vision of sex appeal, yet she was beautiful, even with her messy, Banshee hair and the— “Oh!” Jorah said, his fingers going for her hair, for the dusty spider web dangling there, his eyes finding hers. 

_It is as soft as Edelweiss._

It took everything he had to fight the urge to bend down and kiss her parted lips as she looked up into his eyes. Jorah swallowed. “Nobody’s been there for years,” he said as he showed her the remains of the fragile, dirty spider web. 

“Oh... thanks,” Dany said, combing her hair down.

Jorah rolled the spider web into a tiny ball just so he would have something to do with the hand that had held hers. “Well, that was…” He started and found himself unsure how to finish. 

“Fun?” Dany suggested and Jorah chuckled, then nodded. It had been that. It had been much more too.

“Shall we return to your tea?”

“What about the other secrets?”

“Another day.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

“I’ll keep you to that, you know,” Dany said, all smiles as she followed Jorah back to the kitchen.

“I have no doubt,” Jorah smiled under his whiskers.

“Hodor!” Hodor exclaimed with excitement as soon as they entered the kitchen, a wide smile on his face.

“You’re… here,” Jorah said, his eyes moving from Hodor to Osha. He was not expecting them back so soon. He glanced at his watch and blinked. 6:50 AM. His time with Daenerys felt like mere minutes, but they had spent almost an hour together, yet he wanted more. _I should have shown her the other secrets._

“Yes, we are,” Osha said glancing from Jorah to Daenerys, questions dancing in her large, bright eyes. 

“Morning!” Dany offered.

“Good morning,” Osha said politely. “Would you like me to fix you something for breakfast?”

“I had a mug of tea… somewhere… around here,” Dany said looking around the kitchen.

“I threw it out, along with the coffee. They were cold. I can make another.”

“Oh, no… I…” Dany looked from Osha to Hodor, to Jorah, “I’m… I’m good.” She fidgeted on the spot a little before looking up at Jorah and saying, “Thank you, Jorah, I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun.” The smile on her face reached her eyes, and Jorah smiled back. “Uhm… see you at dinner?” She added.

“Yes.”

Dany nodded and took her leave.

 _Fuck._ Jorah thought, because his heart was beating somewhere in his throat and he wanted nothing more than to have her stay, or to follow in her footsteps up to her room… which she shared with her younger, handsomer boyfriend. _Idiot!_ He admonished himself.

“See you at dinner?” Osha asked with a raised brow.

“What?" Jorah puzzled, finally losing sight of Dany, "Ohh, uhm... yeah. They invited me yesterday, I refused them then, can’t refuse them again.” 

Osha said nothing, just fixed him with her big, judgemental eyes.

“It wouldn’t be polite.”

“Aha,” Osha said without moving her lips.

“It has nothing to do with _her_ , really, we’re just… friends.”

Osha nodded and made the same guttural sound, her eyes still fixed on him. 

“She’s got a boyfriend… I’m not an idiot, Osha!”

“Uhm.”

“Your ability to not blink is impressive.”

Osha pursed her lips.

“I’ll see myself out now.”

“You do that, _master._ ”

“Osha!” Jorah threatened, but left the kitchen. 

Outside, snow fell gently on the castle.

*

Sitting at the table inside the Great Hall, Jorah felt underdressed in his camel-colored cashmere sweater and black jeans. His guests had decided to dress up for the occasion, the men in dark-colored suits, the women in elegant, flowy dresses. Jorah felt nothing like the true master of the castle, he felt like a pauper the group had taken pity on, inviting him to join their elaborate dinner party in exchange for interesting stories and funny anecdotes. He hated every moment of it, and they were only on the main course. There was one blessing in disguise, both Joffrey and Viserys had positioned themselves at the heads of the tables, and while that annoyed him a little, he was happy to find himself sitting right across from Daenerys, a spot from which he could freely, inconspicuously glance at her. And what a sight she was, with her loose, silver curls flowing softly over her diaphanous, pale blue dress.

“Tell me, Jorah,” Sansa said with a thin smile on her lips, “are there any ghosts roaming your castle?”

Dany choked on her wine, “Ghosts?!” She asked, her eyes wide, sounding genuinely scared. Jorah smiled inwardly. 

“I could have sworn I saw something earlier this morning, but it was probably my imagination acting up.”

Jorah lifted his brows, knowing full well that Sansa hadn’t seen a thing. “Well…” He said, casting a glance at Daenerys who looked at him expectantly, just like the rest of his quests. “Personally, I’ve never seen one,” he moved his gaze to Sansa and Joffrey, “but of course there’s the story of the old, white-haired lady.”

Dany, who was in the middle of taking another sip from her wineglass, choked again, audibly this time.

“My staff claims to have seen her several times, always making a weird noise like…” Jorah tried and succeeded in making the same guttural noise as Dany did that morning and noticed her choking even harder, while Joffrey had as much color in his face as the snow outside. “They’ve only seen it in the Lord’s bedroom, though." Jorah took a sip of his wine, "Oh!" He exclaimed, acting as if he had just pieced the puzzle together. “That’s... your bedroom, is it not? Don’t tell me you’ve seen something too?”

On the trail end of Jorah’s sentence, Dany lifted herself from the table and left the room with only a pained “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll go check on her,” Jon said, “she’s got an irrational fear of ghosts.”

“No, no, stay, I’ll go,” Missandei said, lifting herself up from the table, and following Daenerys out.

Jorah bit on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. He knew the only pain Dany was in was from the inability to burst into laughter and _out_ herself. Taking another sip of his wine Jorah glanced at Joffrey, who seemed frozen in place, his mouth half-open, his eyes lost, and Jorah had to fight to keep a smile from his lips. It was petty of him, he knew it. He didn’t care. 

Sansa placed her hand on top of Joffrey’s, comfortingly, and the man seemed to come back to his senses.

“But, as I've said, I’ve never seen one, I think they’re just figments of overactive imaginations.” 

“Good!" Jon said, "I know ghosts are not real, but fears aren’t rational. Would you please reassure Dany once she comes back?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Jorah said.

_She’s the only ghost roaming this castle._

“I guess this place is out of the question as a wedding venue,” Arya said matter-of-factly, seemingly unperturbed the slightest by the ghost topic, then sipped her wine.

“I don’t do weddings.” Jorah said automatically, “Are you getting married?” He asked Arya, though, there was something twisting in his stomach already. 

“Me? No! Jon and Daenerys are, a year from now, a Christmas wedding.”

Jorah managed to smile thinly even as his stomach felt wrung like a washcloth. “Congratulations,” he said to the groom to be.

The smile fell from his face as Daenerys and Missandei came back into the room and sat back at the table.

“I’m sorry, the wine went down the wrong pipe… all this talk of ghosts just…” Dany said, seeming a little distraught. “But anyway, what did I miss?”

“The castle is not open for weddings,” Sansa said and Dany’s face dropped. 

“Congratulations,” Jorah offered and managed another thin smile. “And rest assured, there are no ghosts roaming the castle.”

“Th—Thank you.”

“We already have everything set up anyway,” Jon said.

“Yes, we can’t have any last-minute changes, father wouldn’t approve,” Dany said with a thin smile of her own.

“No, we definitely can’t upset father,” Viserys said with a slight edge, glancing from Dany to Jorah.

Jorah felt like utter shit and hated himself for feeling that way, Daenerys was a stranger, someone who he had met merely a day ago, he had no right to feel… _hurt_ by the news. They were a young couple, in love presumably, though they didn’t seem to be very affectionate towards each other. He cast a glance at the couple, each with a hand on the table, close, yet not touching. If he were in Jon’s place there would be no space between them, his fingers would have caressed her more delicate ones softly, gently. _Idiot!_ Jorah admonished both himself and Jon. Maybe public display of affection wasn't their thing, either way, none of this was his business.

“So, now that the matter of the… _poltergeist_ is settled, tell me about this castle,” Tyrion said, “any secret rooms or passageways?”

“Oh, no.” Jorah lied, for he wasn’t about to show the castle's secrets to any of them, anyone besides Daenerys. “I guess my ancestors didn’t think of such things.”

“That’s disappointing,” Arya said, “I was looking forward to exploring them.”

“None to explore I’m afraid. What are your plans for tomorrow?” Jorah said, changing the subject.

“Some skiing, some snowboarding,” Missandei answered, sounding excited. “Hopefully no broken limbs, winter sports are still new to me and to Torgo.”

“And a little shopping!” Sansa added, and both Shae and Doreah echoed her excitement.

“Would you like to join us?” Missandei asked.

“I’m sure he’s got better things to do,” Daenerys interjected.

 _She doesn’t want me around._ Jorah thought, a knife twisting in his stomach. “Yes… I… I have a few things I need to do tomorrow. Plus the weather report said there’s a storm coming.” Jorah looked through the big, stained glass windows at the snow falling harder and harder. It had started that morning and had not stopped all day long. “Might not be the best time for winter sports”

“Shopping it is, then!” Sansa said with glee.

“No! Skiing!” Missandei countered.

“If it gets too bad, I wouldn’t go down the mountain, or at least, if you do, come back up if the snow doesn’t relent. Otherwise, you might not be able to make the climb up.”

“I’m sure our cars can handle it,” Viserys said, dismissively.

 _I’m sure they won’t_. “As you’ve seen when you came up, the road is steep and serpentine, you might not be able to. Do you have chains on your wheels?”

“No, I don’t believe we do,” Tyrion said. 

“I have several spares, I’ll have Hodor put some on in the morning before you leave, it will be safer, make the roads more manageable, just give me the keys tonight. The cars will be ready by the time you’re up.”

“Thank you, we appreciate it, Jon said.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in seeing more of the castle ....
> 
> [Peleș Castle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1z0zAate7uQ)


	4. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a ride...

It was 7AM and the grey light of winter sun was finally tricking inside Daenerys’ bedroom. She laid awake in the four-post bed, looking up at the ceiling and nursing an itch, the kind of itch that begged to be scratched. She wouldn't though, couldn’t, it would be inappropriate. Dany looked to her left and saw Jon puffing away in his sleep, oblivious of her thoughts and her plans. For that, she was grateful, for there was no proper explanation for what she had done, what she wanted to do and what she _would_ do today. 

Meeting Jorah in the kitchen yesterday had been a fluke, a happy coincidence that turned into a fun start to her day. They had done nothing wrong, not really, and if she were to go down to the kitchen right now, she wouldn’t do anything wrong either, nor would she do anything wrong later today, once her plan had hatched. It was just a little fun, really; they were just two kids exploring the castle together, that was it. Nothing more, nothing less… But how could she explain that to her fiancé? _Darling, I’m going to leave our bed and go walk hand in hand with another man through dark, ancient, secret passageways._ Putting it into words made it even less innocent than it was, and the plan she had devised and set into motion last night didn’t help her cause. Half of her felt guilty for it, the other half not at all. 

Dany chuckled remembering last night’s dinner and Jeffrey’s face at the sound coming from Jorah's mouth. She hadn’t expected Jorah to play along and make up the ghost story, she hadn’t expected him to show her the secret passage, nor to let her scare Joffrey either. She liked it though; she felt _in_ on a secret only one other person knew. She felt special. _It’s just harmless fun and I want more of it._ That is why she had objected to Jorah coming along with them for their skiing trip. Because she needed him here, in the castle, where she would find herself, _alone_ , after all her friends had left for the day. She wasn’t sure what excuse to come up with, a stomach flu or maybe a migraine, one of those. That way it would seem like another fortuitous accident that they found themselves alone again with a castle and its secrets to explore. 

Dany was good at making her luck, or at gently changing the narrative to suit her, even if she had to live with a few lies. Like being terrified of ghosts, when really she had just a tiny fear of the supernatural, or getting terrible motion sickness when, in reality, she just hated sailing, be it with her brother or with Jon. 

Next to her, Jon twisted in his sleep and draped an arm over her body. Dany looked at his arm, then at his face and waited for warmth to grow inside her heart at the tender gesture. When it didn’t come, Daenerys did what she did all her life, she repeated the same words again and again and again until she believed them. The words were stringed together like pearls on a necklace and they were all hidden in a mother of pearl box inside her head. In time of need, she pulled out a necklace and draped it over herself. Sometimes, in her darkest moments, she would pull as many as she could and wrap them around herself over and over again until she was but mere words. 

_It’s okay._

_I’m okay._

_I can do this._

_I am good enough._

_I am happy._

Now, she took out the pearl necklace she had made when her father had informed her that he expected her to marry Jon. ' _I love Jon, he’s a good man and he will make a good father.'_ Dany repeated the words time and time again, draping that necklace around her neck, again and again, trying her best to ignore how it choked her. 

*

At 11 AM Dany left her room in search of her unsuspecting partner in crime. Jon and her friends had left hours ago, after more convincing than she had expected. 

“It’s just a migraine, I’ll be fine, I just don’t want it to get worse and ruin tonight, or tomorrow!” Dany had said with a counterfeit pained look and pleading eyes, “Please go and enjoy yourselves, it’s only half a day!” She could see on both Jon’s and Missandei’s faces that they didn’t think it right to leave her, but she also saw that they didn’t want to miss out on the fun. A few more, ' _I’m fine, I’m just_ gonna _go back to sleep. There’s no point in missing all the fun just to watch me sleep,’_ later and they finally relented and left. 

There was a smidge of guilt turning in her stomach, but there was also excitement. She couldn’t wait to see what other secrets the castle had to reveal. But she had to. _I can’t go down now, feeling all better, it would be too obvious. But every minute I wait here it’s another minute less that I spend with him— Err, that I spend exploring. And what if he leaves? He said he had something to do today._ Dany tormented herself like that for almost three hours, when finally, she decided she couldn’t wait any longer and that enough time had passed for her to recover from her imaginary migraine. 

Dany’s first stop was the kitchen for that’s where she had found Jorah yesterday, and because she was starving and needed a little something before she could start exploring. 

The smells of the kitchen guided her by the nose and as she entered she saw half a dozen people preparing their meal dressed in old-timey servant clothes. Dany groaned on the inside, Joffrey really deserved to be frightened back into his senses. 

“Can I?” She asked one of them, looking down at a plate of mouth-watering appetizers, “I’m starving!”

“Go ahead,” Osha said from behind her and in her hurry to eat, Dany barely managed to chew a few times before swallowing. 

“Feeling better?”

“Mu—ch.” Dany said, a hand covering her full mouth. “They're _so_ good!”

“Family recipe.” Osha offered as Dany grabbed a few more. “Are you looking for Jorah?”

Dany choked on her bite. “No.” She said as soon as she could. “Just hungry… But _now_ that you’ve mentioned it, do you know where he is?” _Slick!_

“In his office.”

Dany nodded then grabbed another handful of appetizers. “Thank you!” She said before making for the door. 

“You don’t need me to show you the way?”

Dany stopped. She had been in his office yesterday morning, but now she realized she didn’t _really_ know where it was. “Yes, actually, I do!”

“Follow me.”

As they walked past the library a thought occurred to Dany. “Can we go through here?” She still had no idea how to open the secret door. 

Osha stopped in her tracks and looked at her. “That’s the library, not the office.”

“I know.” Dany smiled. It was a test, she wanted to see if Osha knew of the passageway and if she would give out its secrets. “Can we _still_ go through here?”

Osha looked at her for a long moment, sizing Dany up and Dany realized that instead of being slick, she had just outed herself. _Shit!_

“He showed that to you guys?”

“Uhm… No… just me.” Dany said and felt weird saying it.

“He never shows anyone...”

Dany swallowed not sure what to say. “...On second thought, maybe it would be best to take the regular route.” Osha’s gaze made her feel like she had done something wrong, but she held it nonetheless. 

Osha said nothing, she just made her way up the ornate, wooden stairs. 

After _that_ , hunger had left Dany, but having nowhere to put down her handful of food, she ate it on the way to the office.

“Here,” Osha said when they reached a large, wooden door carved with the likeness of a rampant bear. 

“Thank you.”

“Aha.”

Dany watched until Osha was out of sight, then wiped her hands on the back of her jeans, combed her hair with her fingers and pulled down on her robin egg blue, cashmere sweater. 

_What now?_ She wondered _. I can’t just knock on his door and demand to be given a grand tour of the castle._

_… Can I?_

_‘Hi! It’s me, yeah, I’m totally fine now, no headache… Hey, I was thinking… can you stop whatever it is you’re doing and entertain me?’_

_NO! No, I can’t do that!_

Dany groaned on the inside and fidgeted on the spot. This was a stupid idea, she was an adult woman, a fully grown, twenty-five-year-old, and she was acting like a child. She wanted to leave and forget about all of this. But she just _couldn’t_. 

Dany exhaled sharply. “Just be an adult, casually bring it into the conversation… you got this,” she said under her breath as she made to knock on the door, but stopped. Instead of knocking she traced the bear carving with her knuckles. The bear stood on his hind legs and while the pose could be construed as menacing, there was something almost _soft and sad_ about him. Dany moved closer to the door and traced the carvings of the fur, liking the way its grooves tickled the tip of her fingers. 

Jorah opened the door from the inside right at that moment and Dany landed right in his arms.

“Sorry! Sorry!” They both said at the same time.

“Are you okay?” Jorah asked, propping her back up by the shoulders.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just… embarrassed. I was… I was looking at…you… your,” _Oh God!_ Dany took a moment to breathe sharply through her nose and regain her composure. 

“Are you feeling better?” Jorah asked. 

_So they told him_. She knew they would, or at least they would tell someone and have word reach his ears. “I am. Much better. All I needed was a little rest.” Dany smiled, “I was… I was wondering… since I find myself with nothing to do and all alone…would you consider showing me the rest of the castle’s secrets?” 

Jorah blinked. 

_Please!_

“There are one hundred and sixty rooms in this castle, most are unlocked, you can explore _them_ , keep yourself busy.”

_True._

“How many have you seen so far?”

 _Shit. Not even a dozen._ Dany realized. _But why? When I had all the time in the world and nothing better to do._

“You promised!” Dany countered instead of answering him.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, you’re—”

“You pinky promised!”

“Yes, but—”

“I _said_ I’d keep you to your promise.”

“You did say that.”

_Please!_

Jorah fidgeted with his hand for a moment. “Alright,” he said and turned back into his office, “let me grab a flashlight. No more fumbling in the dark this time.”

“Oh.” Dany found herself disappointed for some reason.

*

“Go ahead,” Jorah said, pointing a hand towards the white, carved marble fireplace in the corner of the room. It was one of the largest she had seen, triangular in shape and tall enough to reach the ceiling where it tapered off. The hearth was the size of a small adult, almost her size and tiled with dark brown bricks, and at the back, a large plate of wrought iron stood. 

Dany blinked at him, wondering if he was making fun of her. “Go ahead and do _what_ exactly?”

Jorah smiled at her and Dany thought there was a little mischief in his eyes, “Figure it out.”

“Fine! I will!” She said, determined. _This isn’t like yesterday. Why isn’t it like yesterday?_ She had felt so at ease around him yesterday, they were just two kids, two playing buddies that had known each other all their lives and were perfectly comfortable around the other. Today was different, there was _something_ between them. She didn’t know what, or why it felt so heavy when yesterday it had been so light. 

Dany looked the marble fireplace up and down, not knowing what to look for. _Maybe I should just call it a day. It doesn’t seem like he actually wants to do this._ A part of her said, but the other part had been presented with a challenge and Daenerys Targaryen did not back down from a challenge. Oh no, a challenge ignited that smoldering fire that never quite died inside her. 

“You wanna see what I’ve got, Mormont?” She said defiantly and turned from him before seeing his reaction. _Fine, I’ll show you what I’ve got!_

Dany’s fingers traced the marble looking for grooves, for movable parts, for any hints of how to… How to _what_ exactly? She didn’t know. Would another hidden door open, would there be something inside the fireplace? She wasn’t sure, either way, she found nothing of use. _Fuck!_ Dany took a step back and gave the fireplace a once-over. Her eyes settled on the metal plate at the back of it. _That’s gotta be it!_ Dany crouched down and stepped into the hearth. _I’m gonna look like a damn chimney sweeper by the time I find what I’m looking for. And what the hell am I looking for?_

“Need help?” Jorah offered.

 _‘Need help?’_ Dany mocked in her head. _I bet you’re enjoying this!_ “No, I’m good, thanks!” 

Dany took out her phone, noticed a few new texts, ignored them, and turned the phone’s flashlight on. Up close she saw the flora and fauna engravings of the plate. Half hidden behind an oak, she saw a bear. Dany pressed on it and the iron plate opened with a clank. 

“Yes!” Daenerys burst out victoriously, lifting her hands above her head and touching the working insides of the fireplace, dislodging a cloud of soot in the process. 

“Fuck!” She cursed, leaving the hearth coughing, looking down at the mess of her. Her blue sweater was now striped with black and dark grey, as was her white hair. Dany jumped up and down, trying to get the fine powder off of her. 

“Let me,” Jorah said, fluffing her hair to get the soot out. 

Dany stopped and looked up at him, waiting for him to finish, not wanting his fingers to leave her hair. Without realizing she leaned into his touch. 

“Cinderella,” Jorah said softly, as he rubbed a smudge of soot from her right cheek. Dany’s stomach fluttered. _Oh!_

She cleared her throat before saying, “What’s behind the plate, anyway?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember. I was about your size last time I’ve been in that room.” 

“Oh, _my size_!? Did dinosaurs still roamed the earth then?” Dany said with a chuckle.

“Funny,” Jorah said with no humor in his voice, yet by the look in his eyes, she knew he didn’t mind the silly joke.

_Maybe it can be like yesterday again._

“Lead the way, Sir.”

Jorah looked at her, “Yes, my Lady.”

As he entered the hearth and squeezed his tall frame through the narrow opening at the back of the fireplace, Dany swallowed. _Why do I like the sound of that?_

“There used to be a light switch here, somewhere…” Jorah said as Dany entered the flashlight illuminated dark room behind the fireplace. It smelled stuffy and _old_. If old had a smell it was this room. 

“There!” She heard him say as golden light flooded the room. “Huh, it’s a lot smaller than I remember.”

It wasn’t much of a room, not compared to the one they had just came from, or any other room inside this beautifully ornate castle. The walls were plastered and dark grey from dirt and age, and none of the wood furniture was carved or remotely beautiful. There was a simple, rickety-looking table in the middle of it, something that looked like a mix between a cabinet and a dresser, and to the left of that stood a cot bed covered with a thin, dirty mattress. 

“You know those movies where the serial killer kidnaps the woman and takes her to his dungeon? This is _that_ dungeon.” Dany said, yet she still felt safe. 

Jorah laughed and for the first time, Dany noticed his dimples. “What is this room?” She asked, forcing her eyes away from those adorable, fleshy depressions. 

“I don’t know what it was meant for, maybe a forgotten room where a craftsman slept during construction, but it was my hiding place.” 

“Who were you hiding from?”

“The world. It can get really loud sometimes, especially when you’re small.” 

Dany traced her fingers on the tabletop, picking up a thick layer of dust. “What was little Jorah doing here?” She could almost imagine the boy, lean and tall, a mess of blond hair and beautiful blue eyes.

Jorah moved to the dresser and tried to open the first drawer. “I found some old tools here, if I could get this open—” he said, struggling to pull on the unbudging wood, “—I’d show them to you.” The dresser refused to give away its secrets and Jorah gave up. “Woodworking tools… I was about nine years old when I started hiding here… shortly after I found them, I began carving.” Jorah took a sharp breath. “Huh! Interesting.”

“What?” Dany questioned.

“The first time I hid here, I hid from the mourners.” 

“Mourners?” Dany questioned, already feeling something twist in her stomach.

“My mother had died, it was her funeral, the castle had never been so crowded, so loud, felt so… _foreign_. My father was too busy with his own grief to… ” Jorah swallowed. “Anyway, I came here and hid until everyone was gone. I think I might have slept here that night, I don’t know if my father even knew. When everything got to be too much, I returned here and carved a piece of wood with old, rusty chisels. As I grew older and began to deal with life better I stopped coming here, stopped carving. I only picked it up again ten years ago, right after my father died. You know I never put those two and two together, not until now.” 

There was such sadness in his voice and in his eyes that Dany couldn’t help but feel it in her heart too. She wished she could give him a hug.

“I was eleven when I lost my mother,” she said instead of hugging him. Dany didn’t talk about her mother, to anyone, not her family, not her friends, not Jon, yet she found herself doing it now. “She was sick. I knew it was coming, she did her best to prepare me for it, yet…” a tear crossed Dany’s face, “one day she was there, with her bright smile and her warm hugs and the next she was gone, just like _that_.” Dany wiped away the tear but others were threatening to break the dam of her eyelids “It’s been almost fifteen years and it still hurts. It’s… it’s like a scab grew over the wound, keeping all the pain beneath it, but when I think of her, when I remember her; beautiful and _sad_ , and so loving, the scab breaks open and the wound bleeds again, and I don’t know if it will ever heal completely, maybe… maybe it will and maybe I don’t want it to, because if it does, it means I've finally let go of her, of _my mom_ and … I… I can’t let her go, I…” Dany was sobbing now, feeling like her whole being was an open wound, vulnerable and bleeding. 

Jorah wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay, you’re okay!” He said as his hand moved up and down her back. 

Dany exhaled slowly in his embrace and pressed herself to him, he felt warm and strong and his warmth was flowing into her body, her heart, soothing her like balm. Dany allowed herself to melt in his embrace. She didn’t know how long they stood there, she only knew that she wanted to remain there, wrapped up like a cocoon, feeling safe. 

Jorah was the first to pull away and Dany missed his warmth once he did. His finger wiped the moisture off her left cheek as he said, “You should go wash your face, you look like one of those kidnapped women you mentioned, or like a coal miner on a rainy day.” Dany laughed wholeheartedly and wiped at her face with the sleeve of her dirty sweater. 

“Now you’re just making it worse.” He said with a soft chuckle.

“Fiiine!” She huffed, faking exasperation, “Let’s go.”

*

“Where have you been?!” Osha asked, standing at the top of the stairs, sounding annoyed and alarmed, “And why do you look like that?” A second later she shook her head, dismissively, “Nevermind, I don’t care. Have you looked outside?”

“No,” Jorah said.

“The snow is picking up fast, the weather report said a storm is coming. It’s 2PM, it will get dark soon and your… _guests_ aren’t back yet.”

“Two?” Dany said, surprised. _Where did three hours go?_ She pulled out her phone and saw several texts from Jon and Missandei. _Fuck!_

“It’s bad, and it’s gonna get worse,” Osha continued as Dany read her texts, “if we don’t leave now, we _will_ get snowed in. I gotta get Hodor down to his mom, you know how he gets if he’s away from her for too long. I can drop him off, then try and make it back up before the roads close. You’ll need all the help you can get taking care of your guests, the rest of the staff doesn’t want to get snowed in here, they have families to take care of, and tomorrow is Christmas.”

“Yes, of course,” Jorah said. “Take him down, and let everyone else go too.” Osha already turned to leave, but Jorah stopped her, “Don’t come back if it’s not safe, you hear me, don’t risk it. I’ll manage!”

Osha nodded and left.

“Daenerys, call your friends, tell them they need to come back up now, _right now,_ they might not be able to do it later.”

The texts Dany had received were just her friends checking in on her, nothing of importance, nothing to suggest they knew how bad the weather was getting. She looked at her phone wondering who to call, Viserys wouldn’t take advice from her, she was just his useless baby sister. Jon, she could get through to him, but she didn’t feel like talking to him right now. She pressed on Missandei’s name and waited for her to pick up. 

“I’m gonna go help everyone to their cars,” Jorah said before leaving, and Dany nodded, then thought better of it and followed him. _I need to see this storm._

“Dany!” Missandei said from the other end of the call, “How are you feeling? Better? You’re missing out on all the fun.”

“Where are you guys?”

“Uhh… Everywhere. Some are skiing, some sledding, Torgo is on a snowboard, for the first time in his life and he’s a natural!”

“Missandei, listen carefully, I need you to round everyone up and come back to the castle. Now!” Dany reached the front door of the castle and opened it, the wind instantly blew snow in her eyes and took her off balance momentarily.

“What? Why? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She said as she used her back to push the door closed against the raging wind. “There’s a storm coming, actually it’s here already, you need to come back up now, before the roads close.”

“What? There’s no storm here!”

“Well I’m looking at one right now and I’m telling you, you need to come back. _Now_!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll gather everyone.” 

Through the windows, Dany saw a short caravan of cars making their way down the mountain, slowly. “Hurry, Missandei!” Dany said and hung up. 

“I told them not to go down this morning,” she heard Jorah’s voice from behind her, “or at least to come back as soon as the storm picked up.”

“Missandei said there's no storm on the ski slopes.”

“It’s the topography of this place, the weather is different here.” 

“Do you think they’ll make it back?” Dany asked then chewed on her lips. 

A moment later Jorah said, “I hope they do.”

Jorah had excused himself to prepare the castle for the storm while Daenerys paced the halls up and down and up and down again, chewing on her lips. Outside, the wind howled between the trees, gathering up the snow from their branches and leaving them barren. 

_Come on, come on!_

Dany pulled her phone out. No notification. She started typing.

**Dany: Where are you?**

**Missandei: All the guys, except Tyrion and Torgo are still somewhere up the ski slopes with Arya too, _of course_. **

**Missandei: I rounded up all the other girls, but they refuse to leave without the boys.**

**Dany: How long until the guys are down?**

**Missandei: With your dumb brother and dumber Joffrey at the helm, who knows?**

**Dany: YOU DON’T HAVE TIME FOR WHO KNOWS!!!!**

**Missandei: I know, I know. I’ll press them some more.**

Dany looked at the clock on her phone again, 3:15 PM

“Daenerys,” Jorah said, putting his phone back in his pocket. There was a look about him that she didn’t like. “That was Osha, she just tried coming back, she couldn’t, the roads are too bad.”

 _No, no, no!_ “Are they closed?”

“No, not yet, but that’s only because—.”

“Then they can make it up, they have good cars.”

“It’s not safe, Daenerys.”

“They’ll make it!”

“What if they don’t, what if they skid off the road and into a ravine?” 

_Fuck! FUCK!_

Dany dialed Missandei. “Where are you?”

“We just left the ski slopes, you’re right the weather is getting bad but we’ll be there in like 40 minutes.”

Dany exhaled, audibly. “Don’t, the roads are unsafe, you won’t make it up.”

“I’m sure we will.”

“Missandei, please, don’t risk it!”

“Dany, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying stay in town until the storm blows away.”

“Okay… We’ll go have a late lunch somewhere and wait until they clear the roads. It’s gonna be okay, Dany.”

“Aha,” Dany said into the phone and hung up. Her friend was clueless about the situation and she didn’t have the heart to tell her yet.

“What did they say?” Jorah asked.

“They said they’ll wait until the roads get cleared.”

Jorah huffed, “They'll be waiting a long time. The road is private property, I have an arrangement with the town, but they won’t clear it before they’ve cleared everything else.” 

Dany’s mouth opened but nothing came out. 

“I’ll have Osha call them, help them find a place to stay for the night.” 

_This is all my fault,_ Dany thought. _I should be down in town with them, with my friends, my fiance, not stuck here with a …a stranger._

“Will they clear them tomorrow?” Dany asked in a small voice.

“Weather report says the storm will die down Christmas night. They won’t be able to do much before then.”

Dany swallowed _. What have I done?_

*

Dany hung up the phone on one of the worst conversations she had ever had. Even though she had called Jon, she’d been put on speaker and almost everyone had taken part in the conversation. It had ranged from, “We can’t leave you up there alone! Or with a stranger!” to “We paid a lot of money to spend Christmas in a fucking castle, not in some dingy ass hotel,” to “I’m going back up, I don’t care what they say!” followed by an echo of, “No! You’re not, the wind is strong enough to sweep you off your feet! And the snow is almost knee-high.” Eventually, they had all agreed to err on the side of caution. Dany would stay where she was, warm and safe, while the rest of the group would wait in town for the storm to die down and the roads to clear. 

Dany turned to Jorah, who was making a cup of coffee. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the kitchen windows. “What now?” She asked feeling almost afraid of the answer.

“Now we wait and hope for the best.” He said, then sipped on his coffee.

 _Oh God!_ “What do you mean?” 

“Well, the last bad storm we had was five years ago, the castle was snowed in for 2 weeks. My wife hated every moment.”

“Wife?!” Dany said, realizing too late that that was _not_ the most crucial information she had received.

“Ex-wife now. And the worst part was that the storm knocked out the power lines, we were out of power for about a week.”

“Fuck!” Was all she could say, trying to process all the new information. _He was married once. Was it a long time ago? How long was he married for, how long has he been divorced? Snap out of it, Daenerys!_ She admonished herself. _That’s not what matters now!_

“But this storm isn’t as bad, right?” She said, hoping and praying for a positive answer.

“Not yet.”

“Will you… where will you sleep tonight?” Dany started and before Jorah could open his mouth to answer she continued on, “I’m not afraid of ghosts or anything, but the thought of sleeping all alone in this huge castle… It just… it doesn’t sit well with me. I know you mentioned you have a place of your own but… could you… would you… ” _Please don’t leave me here all alone!_

“I won’t leave you alone, if that’s what you fear, not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to!”

Jorah swallowed. “I’ll… I’ll find an empty room close to yours.”

“Thank you!”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes! Famished!” Dany said, then looked down at herself, her hands still stained with soot, her clothes, dirty. “I should go get cleaned up before, though.”

“I’ll have something ready by the time you’re back.” 

*

Dany took a deep breath and looked into the wood-framed mirror set on top of the bathroom’s green and golden wallpaper. She looked a mess. Her silver hair was different shades of grey, her porcelain face was dirty and smudged with soot and her sweater was ruined. No wonder Osha was surprised by her appearance. Dany turned the water on the clawfoot tub and sat on its edge, waiting for it to fill. So much had happened in such a short time. She thought of Jon and Viserys and her friends and she felt horribly guilty. She never wanted for any of this to happen, she didn’t plan for it. She only wanted a few hours alone to explore the castle and its secrets with…with _him._

The bathtub filled and Dany sunk in, letting the heat of it relax her naked body. She had opened up to him, had let _him_ in, just as he had let her in and it felt… new and strange, and vulnerable and _good_. Like she had finally put down a weight she’d been carrying all her life. But this was still all kinds of wrong. She was engaged, her fiance miles away, the two of them kept apart by the snowstorm. She should miss Jon by now, she knew she should. She didn’t. She could make herself feel like she did, she could take out one of her _necklaces_ and wrap it around herself again and again until it felt true. She _could_ … She didn’t. 

Dany sunk under the water and stayed there, thinking of her and Jon’s relationship. Their parents had planned their _merger,_ for that was what it was, years before the two of them had started dating, and once they had, everything felt already planned out. They were a tram, gliding down a set of tracks that have been laid years before, unable to deviate, unable to change course. She could only let it play out until the end, for her only other option was to derail it, and she wasn’t strong enough for that.

Dany broke the water’s surface and finished washing herself. She got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around her wet body and looked in the mirror again. “You can do this, Daenerys,” she said. “It’s just one night, it’s just one night, it’s just one night.” She repeated, hoping that saying it would make it so, hoping that the snowstorm would pass and everything would be back to normal tomorrow. _I wanna spend my Christmas with my friends, not with a stranger. Even if I shared a moment with him, he is still a stranger!_

For a moment Dany thought she had closed her eyes without realizing for she found herself in complete darkness. She fumbled for the doorknob and as soon as she opened it, pale, grey light flooded in. _Maybe the lightbulb blew._ She said finding the switch and turning it on. Nothing happened, the only light in her bedroom came from the dying light of the winter sun. _The fuses?_ She questioned. 

Dany towel-dried her hair as best as she could, put on clean clothes and went down to find Jorah, phone flashlight in hand, for the sun had set in the meantime. _Please be here! Please be here!_ She pleaded after calling his name a few times and receiving no answer. The castle was quiet and still, that eerie stillness of an unlived-in place. The floor creaked beneath her feet as she walked and the wind howled outside and the snow blew over the windows making her feel uneasy and jumpy. 

“Jorah!” She called out again, her voice loud. Still no answer. The hairs at the nape of her neck rose as her traitorous mind replayed the scenarios of all the horror movie she had ever watched. “Jorah! Where are you?” _I don’t wanna be alone, I don’t wanna be alone! God, why is this place so huge!_

Dany jumped out of her skin at the sound of a door slamming, a moment later she saw Jorah shaking himself free of the snow covering his clothes. She exhaled and her entire body relaxed at the sight of him. _You came back._ “The lights are out.” She said as if that wasn’t obvious enough. 

“I know.”

“Was it a fuse?”

“No. Not a fuse.” Jorah said, and Dany didn't like the look on his face. “Went up into the clock tower first, saw that the power is out in about half the town. The lines must be down again.”

 _Fuck!_ “Do you have a generator?” 

Jorah huffed. “I do. But it’s not starting up. It broke a year ago and I kept putting off getting it fixed for… financial reasons. I tried messing around with it just now, but I’ll be honest, generators are not my specialty.”

Dany felt miserable. “What… what does that mean?”

Jorah moved towards her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you in this situation, I just… I didn’t think it would… I didn’t think!” He looked at her, then closed the distance between them and rubbed a hand over her arm. “We’ll be okay, don’t worry!”

Dany nodded automatically. _It’s just one night, it’s just one night! If I think it, I can make it so!_

“I… I think we should leave the castle?”

“What?” 

“Without power, there’s no central heating, no hot water, no lights. This place is huge, and hard to keep warm. There are working fireplaces and enough wood for a few days but it will be a cold night. A _very_ cold night. I have a house, it’s five minutes away, it’s a lot smaller, easier to keep it warm… there are two bedrooms, you’ll have your own there. I think we will be better off there.”

“I don’t think… ” _This is just too much, it’s just one thing after another. This was not what I wanted! This is not what I want! What have I done?_

“It’s your choice, Daenerys,” Jorah said squeezing her arm. 

Dany wanted nothing more than to turn back time and force her friends to stay in for the day or to have joined them, or better yet, to never had come here in the first place. But none of that was possible. Dany looked at his hand on her arm, then up into his kind eyes and decided to gather herself up and trust him. 

“Okay. Let’s go!”

“You should go pack a few essentials.”

“Yes… I should.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I… I think I do.”

About twenty minutes later Dany, bundled up in her warmest clothes, followed in Jorah’s footsteps as they trailed in the dark, through the knee-high snow, the wind cutting at their exposed cheeks. 

“Welcome in!” Jorah said as he opened the door, and placed Dany’s bag down, and the flashlight up on the coffee table, illuminating the room. “I’ll start the fire.”

Dany shook herself free of the snow covering her clothes, and jumped around on one foot, trying to get out the snow that had clung together in clusters and was now making its way down her bare back. 

“What?” She asked, noticing Jorah looking at her, a smile on his lips.

“Nothing.” He said as if awakened from a reverie. 

Dany smiled back and hung her coat. She took a look around his home, as much of it as she could see. It was… _cozy._ Almost all of it could fit in the castle’s dining hall, and unlike the castle, the walls were made of stone and plaster, and wooden beams crossed the ceiling, giving it a more rugged feel. There was no grandeur, no opulence here. The front door opened straight into the living room, where a couch stood by the window, with a coffee table in front of it, a few steps further, wood started crackling inside the fireplace, giving out more light. 

“Will you give me the grand tour?” Dany asked as Jorah wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. 

“It’s going to be a really short one,” he said with a chuckle, then took out another flashlight from a cabinet, “This is the living room,” he added, waving a hand about him, “to your right you have the world’s smallest eat-in kitchen, behind this door, is my bedroom, next one over is your bedroom, and at the back the bathroom, which we’ll have to share.” Jorah finished sounding apologetic. 

“That’s fine.” 

“Allow me to escort you to your chamber,” he said, grabbing the bag out of Dany’s hand. “There you are.” He said a few steps later, and Dany chuckled.

Her bedroom was as _cozy_ as the living room, a double bed occupied most of the room, leaving enough space for one nightstand, a dresser and the fireplace at the foot of the bed. If Dany rested her back on the end of the bed, her feet would almost touch the base of the fireplace “It’s perfect, thank you.” She said honestly, for it was all she needed. _It’s just for one night._

“Before you settle in, give me a minute to start the fire for you.”

“Oh, you don’t think I can do it myself?”

“Can you?” Jorah asked, surprised. 

“No, but I resent the assumption.”

“Noted,” Jorah said with a smile. 

As he busied himself with the fire, Dany looked around the living room, at the few pictures that adorned the walls, the scatter of books by the foot of the couch, the wood carvings on the mantelpiece. 

“There are some candles inside the coffee table, could you light some up?” Jorah asked from the other room. 

“Yes, of course,” 

In the swinging, golden-orange light of the fireplace and the candles, the room looked like it came right out of a country cottage magazine. It felt welcoming and warm, so unlike the castle that demanded respect and that somehow, always felt _cold_. 

“What’s behind this door?” Dany asked noticing a door Jorah hadn’t mentioned. 

“That’s my workshop.” He said, leaving her bedroom. 

“Can I?” She asked, her hand already turning the knob.

Jorah nodded and turned his flashlight on. 

Three walls of the workshop were aligned with dozens and dozens of tools, and supplies while the fourth was covered in open shelves. In the middle of the room stood a large, wooden table. 

“What do you do in here?” Dany asked looking around the room.

“Furniture, I made most of the furniture in this house, and sometimes I… carve things,” he said pointing the light at the wall of shelves, where a dozen carvings stood on display.

“You made these?” Dany said as her eyes traced his work. She stopped and looked at the carving of a woman set in brown wood, she was young and beautiful. A faint smile lay forever frozen on her lips and kindness emanated from her eyes. “This is beautiful,” Dany said, then swallowed. “Is she your wife?”

“My mother,” Jorah corrected her, “or what I remember of her. You wouldn't think your own mother’s face would fade from your memory, but it does, and it’s never more obvious than when you’re trying to capture her likeness. There are still thousands of moments forever embedded in your mind, like her tucking you in at night, or ruffling your hair, or just the way she looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in all the world… but if you really think about it, if you ask yourself what shade of blue her eyes were, or try to recollect the slant of her nose or the curvature of her lips… you can’t remember, not completely, not for sure. Or at least I can’t.” Jorah turned the carving towards him and looked at it. As the light moved over the wood and shadows danced over its features it changed them, and Daenerys could see the family resemblance now.

“Grief does strange things to people, my father took down every photo we had of hers… I think he couldn’t bear to see her and not have her with us. He loved her, very much, that I know for certain. I think he buried part of himself alongside her, he was never quite the same after she was gone. But neither was I, neither was anything.”

Dany watched as Jorah blinked himself back from the past, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I burdened you with all that.” 

“No, no burden,” she said, as she squeezed his arm. “It helps to let things out, to talk about them.” _It helped me_. 

Jorah nodded and swallowed. “We never did have anything to eat today.”

“No, we did not!” She said and her stomach growled instantly. 

“I didn’t think to bring food from the castle, there was plenty there.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what was missing from that lovely trek through the blizzard, carrying plates of food in our hands.”

Jorah shook his head in amusement, then turned to leave the woodshop. 

“What do you have to eat here?”

“Nothing as fancy as what we left behind.” He said as he moved into the kitchen. “There’s ramen and soup, tuna, potatoes, some vegetables, I have some meat too… or I could go back to the castle and grab some food, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Dany looked out the window, everything was dark, but she could hear the wind howling, blowing snow against the glass. “No. I can’t let you go out in that.”

Jorah rubbed the fingers of his right hand together for a moment, “Since we spent today going down memory lane, may I interest you in my favorite _dish_ from my childhood?”

“What is it?”

“Baked potatoes.”

Dany laughed. “Okay.”

She watched as Jorah grabbed 4 large potatoes, washed them and placed them next to the logs, inside the fireplace. “Now we wait,” he said, settling down on the long-thread rug in front of the fireplace. Dany joined him, extending her legs towards the fire and leaning her back on the coffee table. 

They sat in silence for a while; the wood crackling inside the hearth, giving out a faint, sweet smell of smoke, the yellow-orange light of it throwing ever-changing shadows inside the cozy living room. Safe and warm as she was, Dany thought the sound of the raging storm outside was almost welcoming. 

“So tell me, how does someone that owns _that_ castle end up having baked potatoes as a favorite _dish_?”

“My nanny, Brayah, Osha’s mother, she used to make it for me during long winter nights. She raised me after my mother died. She was a very no-nonsense type of woman, but she had a heart of gold, just like her daughter. In some ways I was her first child, for Osha wasn’t born yet, then when she was, we almost grew up together, or as much as kids with a ten-year gap between them can grow up together.” Jorah chuckled, “Somehow, even though Osha is younger, from the time she learned to speak she always bossed me around, almost like a big sister would.” 

“You’re family?”

“Not by blood, but, yes, we are. Me, Osha and Hodor.”

Dany wanted to ask about his other family, his wife. The question stood on the tip of her tongue, asking to be uttered, but she did not.

Jorah lifted himself from the floor and went into the kitchen. He came back with a kitchen towel, plates, forks, salt, and butter. “Ouch, ouch!” He said as he grabbed a potato from the fire, juggling it between his bare hands. Dany chuckled at the sight. He wiped the ash on the towel, then tore it open, placing it on the plate. He repeated the process three more times. 

“Dinner is served!” He said offering a plate to Dany. 

"Thank you. Maybe it’s the hunger talking," Dany said after taking a few bites, "but this has got to be the best baked potato I’ve ever had,” Dany said.

“Maybe it’s the cook.” Jorah offered with a smile. 

_Maybe it’s the cook_ , Dany thought. 

They sat in comfortable silence, looking at the fireplace as they finished their simple meal.

“If you would’ve asked me yesterday how I saw myself spending Christmas Eve, this would not have been my answer,” Dany said. 

“I’m sorry… truly, for all of this.” 

“No, no! That’s not what I meant. I… I don’t mind it, it’s not bad, actually.” Dany countered and she caught his eyes for a moment. The light of the fireplace turned his hair a reddish-gold and danced beautifully in his blue eyes. Dany thought he looked very handsome like this. 

She cleaned her throat a moment later. “You wouldn’t think Christmas is tomorrow by looking at your place.” There were no Christmas decorations, no wreaths, no tinsel, no Christmas tree, no mistletoe.

“I didn’t feel like celebrating this year… ”

“Why?” She asked putting her plate and his on the coffee table.

“It just didn't feel like Christmas this year, but then again Christmas hasn’t felt like Christmas in many years.” 

“It hasn’t.” Dany agreed. “Maybe Christmas is not for adults, maybe it’s just for children, maybe we lose that joy once we grow up.”

“Maybe we do.”

“But we will never find it again if we don’t try,” Dany said and Jorah looked at her as if he was looking into her soul. She didn't shy away from it this time, she held it, and he held hers. There was something fluttering in her belly and without realizing, Dany leaned over to him. Jorah did the same. Her eyes dropped from his to his lips and she leaned in closer still…

Dany’s phone chimed and she pulled back. On her phone’s screen, she saw Jon’s name. Those three letters felt like a rush of ice-cold water. The spell was broken. 

“I’m gonna go take this call,” she said to Jorah, then walked inside her bedroom. She pressed her back to the solid door, closing it, and exhaled. _Oh, God!_ _What are you doing, Daenerys?_

“Hi!” She said, answering the call with as much cheer as she could muster. 

Dany didn’t leave her bedroom until next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed the ride. :)


	5. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the full effect, please listen to this song while you read _**that**_ part.
> 
>  __ **[Lover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5Zay_Hd_7Q) **  
>   
> You'll know what part when you get there.

Jorah didn’t sleep much that night, and when he did, he slept poorly. The day kept replaying in his head over and over again like a slideshow and Daenerys was in every slide. Her, covered in soot yet still looking more beautiful than any version of Cinderella who had graced the silver screen. Her, jumping up and down, trying to shake away the snow, her hair bouncing with her, her purple-tinted eyes as bright as the Northern Star. His heart had warmed at the sight. And it wasn’t just beauty he saw in her. She was funny and spunky, and he had shared with her things he had not shared with anyone, and it felt _good_ and easy, and she had done the same. As his hands wrapped around her and she leaned into his embrace, he wanted nothing more than to press her harder to him, to take away her pain and make it his. 

He knew he was in trouble, he _knew_ it, he felt it in the way his stomach fluttered, in the way his heart swelled at the sight of her, in the way his fingers itched to touch her, to hold her again. 

And he felt terribly guilty too, she was trapped here, away from her friends, with only him for company for a day, maybe more. _Hopefully more_. He hated himself for it, but part of him wished for this blizzard to last a week, a month, a lifetime. The other part wished for the roads to clear by morning, for time to turn back on itself and to have never met her. For what was the point? Nothing could come of this, she was engaged to be married, much younger and by the sound of it, much richer. She would never want him, she would never choose him over her fiancé. But the moment right before her damned phone rang… She had held his gaze and had leaned in and so had he, then her eyes trailed down to his lips and leaned further and… _Fuck!_ There had been something there, he knew it, but it was gone now. _It's for the better._ He didn’t need to sink further into… _her._

On Christmas Day, Jorah woke up at 5 in the morning, his mind made up on two accounts: one, Daenerys was right; if he didn’t try, he would never again find that Christmas joy. Two, she deserved a better Christmas than the one their current circumstances offered. 

And so, he dressed for the day, quietly snuck out of the house, and made for the castle. Outside, the storm still raged and the wind blew the snow like a whip over his exposed cheeks. Jorah didn’t falter. He carried onwards, keeping his head down as he trekked through the thick blanket of snow. 

On his first trip, Jorah brought down from the castle as much food as he could. He didn’t know what Daenerys liked, so he grabbed a bit of everything. The coldest place in the house, his workshop, now held as much cooking as he had been able to carry. There would be no canned soups and ramen on the menu today.

On his second trip, he stripped one of the large Christmas trees inside the dining hall of its ornaments. Tinsel, bells, and globes of red and white were stuffed inside his backpack until they overflowed. Jorah looked at the angel on top of the tree and left it there, he had another ornament in mind, one that had not been put up, one that was safely hidden in the basement. He found it years ago, on one of his trips through the Austrian Alps. It was a tree topper, made out of white bone. From afar it looked just like a star, but up close you could see the petals and the florets. He had bought it instantly, yet had never used it. 

By the time he made it back to the house for the second time, he was exhausted. The blizzard had lashed at his face, choking his breath and sanding down his cheeks until they felt raw, and the muscles in his legs ached from the trek through the deep snow. But he didn’t allow himself time to rest, there was much more to be done.

Happy to see that Daenerys was still asleep, or at least still in her room, Jorah grabbed an axe and made for the forest. The trees inside the castle were much too large and tall to be squeezed inside his home, he needed a smaller one, something he could drag back easily. Half an hour later, he found the perfect one, full, yet not too wide and about as tall as Daenerys. 

*

It was almost 10 in the morning when Jorah finally heard the bedroom door open. From his vantage point on the couch, he watched as a sleepy Daenerys walked out in her flannel pajamas, dragging her feet inside her fuzzy slippers, toothbrush and toothpaste in one hand, the other hand rubbing at her eyes, her mouth open in a yawn, and made for the bathroom without saying a word. Not _one word_. Not for him, not for what he had done. 

Jorah’s heart sunk. 

A minute as long as a lifetime passed, then Dany slammed the bathroom door open, her eyes now wide awake, her mouth agape, a tiny smudge of toothpaste at the corner of her bottom lip. With a smile on his face, Jorah watched as Daenerys took in her surroundings, from the tinsel hung on the walls, to the wreath over the fireplace, to the green, fragrant Christmas fir adorned with globes and bells. He watched as Dany’s lips curled into a smile so bright it reached her eyes and put a twinkle there. 

Jorah’s heart swelled.

“Wha… what happened?” Dany asked, finding his eyes.

“Santa?” Jorah offered, lifting himself from the couch. 

“I’m serious, Jorah… what… why… how?” She asked looking from him to the tree and the rest of the decorations.

“I… I felt bad about you being trapped here, away from family and friends, at Christmas, without a shred of anything… _Christmassy._ ” 

Dany’s eyebrows kneaded and her eyes softened. “Where did you find…? Did you go out in _that_?” She asked looking out the window, at the storm still raging outside.

Jorah shook his head dismissively. “It was nothing.”

Dany looked up into his eyes and Jorah wished for nothing more than to be able to read her mind. Under her scrutiny, he was second-guessing himself and everything he had done since waking up. _Was it not the right thing to do?_ _Is it too much? Should I not have done this?_ The questioned died as Dany’s arms wrapped tightly, too tightly, around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Jorah stood there, not daring to return the hug, not wanting it to end even as the last of his breath left his lips. 

“Thank you!” She said in his ear and pressed herself to him. A moment later she let him go, clearing her throat. “That… that was very nice of you.” She said, taking a step, then another backward, away from him.

“I’m just glad it made your day a little brighter.” 

“It did, it’s… perfect. Thank you!” Dany’s eyes were aglow.

“You’re very welcome,” Jorah said with a smile, then cleared his throat. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without presents,” he continued, bending down and grabbing a wooden box from the coffee table. “I… didn’t have any wrapping paper,” he added as he extended the present and Daenerys took it. “Merry Christmas!” 

Dany looked at the box, then at him, but said nothing. Jorah wished he could read minds again.

“It’s just… a little something, nothing, really,” he said sheepishly as Dany opened the box. In it lay a tree topper, carved out of bleached bone, made to look like an Edelweiss flower. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said as her thumb traced the petals, and the florets at its center, a soft smile on her lips. “Is it a flower? I’ve never seen one quite like it.”

“An Edelweiss flower. It grows high in these mountains.”

“It looks just like a star,” Dany said, looking up at him, her eyes bright. She held his gaze just as he held hers and for a moment time stood still. The wind outside stopped howling, the fire no longer cracked. Then, those bright eyes of hers turned to the Christmas tree and time moved once again. Jorah swallowed.  
“Will you put it up on top of the tree? I wanna see it there,” she asked placing the ornament in his right hand. Her fingers tracing a path down his palm as she removed them and Jorah’s heart fluttered at the tender touch. He did what was asked of him, then took a step back and looked at the flower fitting perfectly on top of the tree, as if it had been made for that tree alone.

“There’s a folktale here,” he found himself saying, then turned to Daenerys, finding her eyes. “It says that after the Christmas Star guided the three Magi, it fell to Earth right on top of these mountains. Come next summer, an Edelweiss flower grew where it landed.” He should have stopped there, he knew it, everything inside him told him to stop, but there was _something_ in her lavender-tinted eyes, something that gave him the courage to continue. “I know it’s hard to see the resemblance in the carving, but when you see it in person, up close… ” His hand lifted to Dany’s face, the tips of his fingers caressing the soft skin of her cheek as he slowly tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Daenerys’ breath hitched, and Jorah’s voice softened further, “you can almost believe that it was once a star, soft and bright, with its silver hair. A Christmas miracle. _”_

 _Like you._

Jorah did not know if he would’ve had the courage to utter those last two words, but he didn't get the chance to find out, for Daenerys pressed her lips to his. She kissed him, soft and gentle, her mouth opening for him to explore, her tongue velvet on his. Jorah’s arm wrapped around her, pressing her body to his and Dany moaned in his mouth. His heart grew wings at the sound, at the taste of her, at the feel of her soft curves pressed to him; wings that fluttered inside his chest like a wild bird caged for the very first time. 

“I’m sorry… I… I shouldn’t…” Dany said removing her lips from his, but staying in his embrace. “This isn’t… I can’t… I should… I should go.” 

Jorah stilled, just as his heart stilled. His hand went slack around her waist but he did not remove it from her.

“Don’t,” he said, a whisper, a plea. _Don’t go_.

Dany looked up at him for a beat, then another, her brows knitted tightly together. “Fuck,” Jorah heard her say under her breath, then her mouth found his again. This time there was no softness, no gentleness in her kiss. She kissed him hard and deep and fast and hungry. She _devoured_ him, and Jorah matched her fervor equally. Each of her kisses felt like a shot of hard liquor and he was getting drunker and drunker on her. He never wanted to sober up. 

Dany grabbed his face between her palms and pulled him from her lips. Her breath fast and hot on his lips, her eyes locked on his, she uttered one word, “Bed!” 

Jorah lifted her up in his arms and walked the few steps to his bedroom. 

No other words were exchanged between them, none except a handful of soft curses and a handful more interjections. They danced away the morning, together, between cool, white sheets. Their music, the soft crackling of fire logs inside the hearth as they took their time to explore the other’s body with fingertips, lips, and tongues. Their music, the wind howling outside, lifting the snow up into a dazzling dance, their bodies matching in the frenzy. They were long lost dance partners, rediscovering the familiar rhythm as easily as drawing breath, and they danced and danced and danced some more until strength left them, until they were satiated and overstimulated. 

The tips of Daenerys’ fingers traced unfamiliar patterns over his chest, her head pressed to his shoulder, her breath soft and warm on his skin and Jorah wondered if this is what Heaven felt like. He was… _happy,_ a happiness the likes of which he had never felt before. Not with Lynesse, not with the women before her, and that thought tore at his heart because Daenerys was not his. She was engaged and bound to be married one year from today. And how he wanted that not to be true, how he wanted her to be his, to never leave his arms, his little house. 

There were so many words sitting on the tip of his tongue but he was afraid to utter them, afraid that they would break the spell he must have cast to have her in his arms right now. He didn’t dare say a word, he barely dared to look at her, for if he saw regret in her eyes he knew his heart would shatter into nothing. 

Daenerys continued the hypnotizing movement of her fingers on his skin as they laid in silence, and Jorah’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The lack of sleep the previous night, and the morning’s preparations took a toll on his body and Daenerys took another one on his mind and heart. Tired and sleepy, and lulled by the tips of her fingers, Jorah closed his eyes for a second. Inside his head, thoughts outran each other in a marathon, before sleep took him, one thought crossed the finish line.

_Did this mean anything to you? It meant everything to me._

Daenerys watched Jorah sleep, watched as his chest moved up and down, slowly, rhythmically. She watched his face intently, the lines on his forehead softening, as did the ones at the corner of his eyes. She wondered what emotions had plowed his face in such a way. Happiness wrapped up in laughter, or worries that furrowed brows? She hoped it had been happiness; she hoped the same emotion will deepen those lines further. She hoped she— _Fuck!_ Daenerys clenched her jaw. It didn’t matter what she hoped. There could be nothing more than today. The storm will clear tonight, by tomorrow the roads will too and life will come barging in, loud yet empty, taking away this winter dream she found herself in. Taking her away. 

Dany lifted herself on an elbow and looked behind her, out the window, at the storm still raging outside, showing no signs of clearing; the sight made her heart skip a beat. Yesterday, she would have given _anything_ to have Mother Nature relent, today… today she would give nothing. 

The soft chime of her phone took Daenerys out of her thoughts. She quickly, but quietly left the warmth of Jorah’s bed and made for her bedroom, not bothering to put on any clothes, hurrying for the phone so that the sound wouldn’t wake her sleeping… What was Jorah to her? She didn’t know, nor did she have time to find out. Dany dug through the pockets of her jeans and found her phone.

Jon. 

_Fuck!_

“Merry Christmas, love!” Jon said from the other end of the phone, his voice cheery. 

Dany swallowed. “Merry Christmas!” She said trying to match his glee.

“How are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dany said sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the covers over her naked self. The fire had died in her room, as it had in the living room, the only warm place inside the house was Jorah’s bedroom, but she couldn’t take the call there. “I’m… we’re still weathering the storm inside the castle. Jorah’s been very helpful… but tell me what’s going on with you guys, how are things over there?”

Dany had lied to her fiancé last night. Had told him she and Jorah were still where he had left them, it seemed more appropriate than telling him the truth. Especially considering that, if Jon hadn’t called right at that moment, Daenerys' lips would have met Jorah’s and the night would have gone very differently. A little pang of guilt twisted in her stomach.

“We’re… okay, considering...” Jon said, half-heartedly. 

“Is it Viserys and Joffrey?” 

“Yes! They have not stopped complaining, not one damn second! The rest of us are trying to get away from them, but they keep finding us, they're like dogs on a scent. There’s not much to do here, since the power is out, so they just complain and complain. And I don't know who's worse, them, or Tyrion, who has taken to the bottle and has been telling us a thousand stories. No one wants to hear them, Dany! No one!”

Dany chuckled. 

“It’s not how any of us pictured spending Christmas…" Jon sighed, "I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have left you alone yesterday, I should have stayed behind with you.”

“No… it’s not your fault…truly, it isn’t!” _It’s mine._

“I miss you… ”

“… I miss you too,” Dany lied. “The roads should be cleared tomorrow, we’ll see each other then.”

“Yeah…” Jon said, then stopped for a beat, “We’ll have next Christmas to look forward to, we’ll spend it together, hand in hand, in front of friends and family and God..." His tone deepened, "We'll dance our first dance and later, we’ll make love as husband and—.”

Daenerys swallowed. “Yes, yes we will do all that.”

“Love you!”

_Do you? Do you really, truly, Jon?_

“I love you too.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. She did love him, in her way, but not enough, not the way she should. Not the way a woman should love the man she was about to marry. She didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse, but she didn’t think he loved her as a man should either. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

Dany stood there, at the edge of the bed, her phone in hand, feeling cold and empty, _trapped_ and unable to move. Sometimes she felt as if her eyes had caught Medusa's, and the Gorgon had turned her into stone. She was bedrock. Bedrock that supported the Targaryen and Stark merger, bedrock over which feet walked, no, trampled. 

One single, clear tear ran down Daenerys’ left cheek. Inside her head, she opened the nacre box and took out her necklaces. 

_It’s okay._

_I’m okay._

_I can do this._

_I am happy._

They wrapped around her flesh, around her joints, chipping the stone away, allowing her to move once again. Dany wiped the moisture from her face and made for the only warm place in the house. Slowly, soundlessly, she got back into bed, under the still warm covers. 

She laid on her side, facing Jorah, looking at his softened features as he faintly puffed away in his sleep. “What are we doing?” She asked softly. Jorah did not stir. _What am_ _I_ _doing?_ _You are a free man, you can do what you want with whom you want… I can’t._ Dany turned on her other side, her back now facing Jorah. She would tell him this was a mistake, that it should never have happened. She would do it as soon as he awakened. 

Jorah draped a hand over her and pulled her to him. Dany’s heart skipped a beat. _Has he heard me?_ A moment later he started puffing away again. _He hasn’t._ Dany scooted herself until her body pressed to his, his heat seeping into her, igniting the smoldering embers of her heart. Jorah nuzzled at the nape of her neck as his hand wrapped around her tighter and Dany melted into a puddle.

She let out a deep sigh, closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. _What have you done to me?_

Dany woke up to the feel of Jorah’s fingers tracing a pattern over her shoulder and down her exposed arm. The touch both tickled and excited her and she let out a soft, pleased moan. 

“Good morning,” he said placing a kiss on her shoulder bone. “Though, morning was long ago.”

“Good afternoon?” She said, stretching like a content cat, another moan leaving her lips. Jorah took the opportunity and kissed the newly exposed flesh of her neck, then dug his teeth in ever so slightly. 

“Fuck!” Dany breathed out as the sensation traveled down her spine and settled between her legs. 

“What shall we do now that we’re awake?” He asked lifting himself up on an elbow and kissing down the side of her ribcage. 

“I… I don’t kn— ” Dany breathed as he reached the sensitive flesh of her waist. “What do _you_ wanna do?”

Jorah’s lips reached her hips. With one swift move, he turned her on her back. “I’m doing it,” he said, his breath hot between her legs.

Lights flickered behind Daenerys’ eyes as his tongue traced her folds, as he parted them to kiss the delicate flesh. _Fuuck!_

“Yeah?” She asked, barely a breath, spreading her legs for him. 

“Yeah!” He said, then said nothing at all, for his mouth busied itself with turning Daenerys into an incoherent, rambling mess. 

The fire had died in Jorah’s bedroom too and the man had wanted to start it up again, but Daenerys had not let him. Instead, she pressed herself closer and harder to him until she could no longer tell where she ended and he began. They stayed like that a while longer, under the warm comforter, talking about nothing and everything. Everything except Jon and her upcoming wedding, everything except his marriage. 

_This was a mistake._ She had promised herself she would tell him that, had promised she'd sever whatever was happening between them, but she couldn’t. It didn’t feel like a mistake; it felt good and right, even if it wasn’t. She decided to enjoy herself and him for the precious hours left in today and tonight. Tomorrow, _life_ would catch up to her. But she was free now, and freedom tasted like his kisses and smelled like his skin mixed with wood smoke and freshly cut fir, and freedom made her feel like she had grown wings on which she soared high into the grey winter sky, so high that the storm outside did not touch her. 

_I am happy._ She said inside her head. She only had to say it once to have it ring true, no necklace had been taken out of its box for it, and Dany’s heart fluttered at the realization. She grabbed his cheeks in the palms of her hands and looked into his eyes. _‘You make me happy.’_ She would never have the guts to tell him that, not out loud, but judging by the little smile that pulled at the corner of his lips maybe she didn’t have to, maybe he could read her mind, or maybe happiness was flowing out of her heart and onto her features.

Dany pressed her lips to his and her stomach growled. She chuckled, looking down at the culprit, then back up at Jorah. “Feed me?” She asked, her brows knitted together. 

Jorah shook his head in amusement, then chucked. Dany sighed, looking at those darn little dimples of his. 

By the time they made their way out of the bedroom, the winter sun was shying away for the night, and cold had grown bold in its absence, gripping the house in its crisp embrace. Jorah cast them both away by lighting a fire in every hearth, by scattering lit candles in the living room and kitchen, as well as their bedroom, all the while making sure not to light the house on fire too. 

“I wish we had some Christmas music or any music,” Dany said as she busied herself with setting the table. 

“There’s an old wind-up radio in my workshop…” Jorah said, then went to fetch it.

The thing looked older than herself, older than Jorah, maybe the two of them combined, and Dany doubted that it would work, but Jorah cranked it up, then turned it on and static left the speakers. A minute of fine-tuning later and he had found a radio station, the only one the ancient device could catch. “It’s the storm, I’ve listened to plenty of stations on this thing,” Jorah offered.

The tail end of a popular pop song played, then, _‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas’_ started. 

_Perfect!_ Dany thought. “Dinner is ready!” She said, looking from the radio on the coffee table to the small, kitchen table where she had set a long platter of food, two plates, and utensils that had been placed on the most Christmassy napkins she could find; two solid dark green ones. In the middle of the table, inside a water glass, stood a tall candle, at its base Dany had wrapped silver tinsel stolen from the Christmas tree. It was the most festive she could make the table look. _It's good enough._

Jorah smiled at the arrangement as he took a seat and Dany smiled back.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to heat up some ham and potatoes? The stove runs on gas, it still works,” he asked looking down at the platter of cold appetizers. 

“I’m good…” _I’m starving!_ “Unless you’d like something warm, then… ” 

“I’m good too.” 

Dany smiled, then grabbed a piece of something that looked kinda like a sausage, but not really. She dipped it into mustard then shoved it into her mouth. “What is it?” She asked, liking the savory, unfamiliar taste.

Jorah chuckled, “If you like it, it’s best you don’t know what it’s made out of.” 

Dany looked at him and chucked back, placing a hand over her full mouth. When she was done, she grabbed another piece.

“I’m sorry,” Dany said pointing a fork at the spread of food, “but whatever this is, it kicks your baked potatoes’ ass.”

Jorah shook his head, a wide smile on his face. “It’s mostly offal, it’s a common Christmas dish in these parts.” 

Dany’s eyes widened for a moment, then shrugged, “It's still good.”

“Yeah, it is.”

They ate in silence, listening to the radio as it played a mix of pop songs and Christmas songs, Jorah's hand reaching for hers, caressing her fingers with his as he cast glances at her, and she at him. His gaze, his touches made her smile and blush like a schoolgirl when she was a fully grown, adult woman.

“What?” She asked softly. 

“Nothing,” Jorah said shaking his head slowly.

 _Oh, God, I’m in trouble._ Dany thought, as her heart did a somersault in her chest. _I’m in so much trouble._ The thought frightened her, it really did, but Jorah looked at her as if she were the last woman on Earth, as if she were more precious than her weight in gold and diamonds, and that look soothed her fears. 

A new song started playing on the old radio. A song she wasn’t familiar with, but there was something in the simple rhythm set by the guitar, bass, and drums that wrapped around her body like a slow-motion whirlwind, hoisting her from the chair, urging her to dance. 

Dany extended her hand to Jorah, and he took it, lifting himself from his seat. She watched as the fingers of her right hand intertwined with his left, then she started moving her feet slowly, swinging from side to side to the lazy rhythm. Jorah followed her lead. 

_♫We can leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January♫_

Dany smiled and pressed her head to his chest. She could hear his heartbeat under her ear, it beat in tune with the song, slow, yet strong. _Pa Pam Pam- Pa Pam Pam._ Jorah’s hand wrapped around her waist and pressed her closer still. Daenerys let out a soft sigh.

Time seemed to stretch like a rubber band or like tar drippings, and Daenerys became acutely aware of every second of their dance.

_♫Have I known you twenty-seconds or twenty years?♫_

The song asked, and she wondered just the same, wondered what magic had urged her to dance to this song of all songs. She let go of his hand and wrapped hers around his neck. She looked up at him, at his blue eyes and his golden hair that seemed to have caught fire, at the embers in his beard. She thought him incredibly handsome as the light cast by the fireplace danced over his features with every footstep, with every lazy swing of their hips. 

_♫Can we always be this close?♫_

The fingers of her right hand tangled in his hair as the ones of her left dug into the muscles of his back, pulling him closer yet. Standing on the tips of her toes, Dany’s lips traced a path from his lips down to his neck, then back the other side.

_♫You’re my, my, my, my lover♫_

There was so much fire in Jorah’s eyes as his hands settled on the tips of her hips, he could turn her to cinders with just one look, yet she _knew_ he wouldn’t. 

_♫We could light a bunch of candles and dance around the kitchen, baby♫_

Jorah chuckled softly, then slowly twirled her, once, twice. They smiled at each other with each twirl, each time their eyes met. 

_♫I finally got you now, honey, I won’t let you fall♫_

Jorah pulled her to him and took the lead, setting the same slow, hypnotizing place. Dany pressed herself to him again. Her heart had never felt heavier, her heart had never felt fuller.

_♫Can we always be this close?♫_

She closed her eyes, savoring the moment in time, content to be wrapped up in his arms, to have him move her, body and soul.

“I think I found it,” she said barely a whisper, “I think I found that Christmas joy.” Jorah squeezed her tightly and pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

_♫You’re my, my, my, my—♫_

The song stopped. The radio’s power had drained. 

Dany looked up into his eyes. There was so much more she wanted to tell him. She could tell him none of it. Instead, she grabbed his hand and walked him to the bedroom. As she did, Dany made a Christmas wish, the first in many, many years.

_Let it snow! Let it snow, let it snow! I don’t want this to end!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for taking the time to read it.
> 
> PS: In case you're wondering, the radio died 2 minutes and 10 seconds into the song.


	6. December 26th

One long-ago Christmas, back when he was still a boy, Jorah had received a snow globe, in it lay a tiny cottage surrounded by fir trees. It had been his favorite toy that year, had spent hours turning the globe down, then up again, watching the snow fall on the cottage, being mesmerized by its slow, downward dance. Today he felt as if he were living inside that snow globe, inside that cottage. Outside, the blizzard had stopped, but the snow kept falling, slow, with its heavy flakes, just like inside his toy. He wished he could live inside that globe forever, just him and Daenerys. 

He wished that outside the globe, the whole world would still, frozen in time. That the snow wouldn’t thaw, the roads wouldn’t clear, and her friends wouldn’t come for her. That time would move forward only inside their globe and he and Daenerys could live a lifetime in the span of a day. 

It was an impossible dream, he knew, but he was already living inside a sleepless dream. _Maybe miracles are possible, and if not at Christmas, then when?_ After all, his Christmas miracle was sleeping next to him, her silver hair laying on her pillow, her eyebrows finally relaxed, something close to a smile on her lips. He hoped he had helped put that smile on her face, he hoped he could put a smile on her face every day, for the rest of his life. 

Jorah sighed, looking at his most beautiful miracle, at the way her chest moved up and down slowly; listening to the soft noise she made as she breathed. 

_Just one more miracle and I shall never ask for anything else, not for as long as I live._

His fingers gently moved aside a lock of silver hair that had fallen over her face.

 _Stay, my Christmas miracle! Stay here, with me. Just stay…_ He begged wordlessly. 

Dany mumbled something in her sleep, then turned and Jorah pulled his hand away. His stomach twisted as he did. He knew she wouldn’t stay, yet he still hoped she would. Without realizing, without wanting to, he had given her power over him, or maybe she had taken it, just as she had taken his pinky finger into hers. Either way, she had the power to destroy him, and she didn't even know it. 

Jorah set his jaw and looked at his watch. 9 AM. He huffed softly, realizing that with her in his bed, in his arms, he had slept better and later than ever before.  
Doing his best not to awaken Daenerys, he reluctantly got out of the warm bed, grabbed his clothes and left their— _his_ bedroom. He had to check on the weather, to see if the roads would be cleared today, if they had to make their way back to the castle and wait for her friends to come back. If he had to lose her today.

He opened the front door and saw what he had already seen through the window, that the blizzard had stopped, but yesterday’s flurries had now turned into large flakes that fell as dense as a curtain over the heavy trees, and the deep snow covering the frozen earth. He smiled at the sight. The roads wouldn’t clear today either. 

_One more day. One more day to make her want to stay, to make her want me._

His joy died a moment later. _One more day of her being trapped here?_

He wondered how she felt. He didn’t want her to be here because she was constrained by circumstances, he wanted her to want it, to want him. _She wants to be here, you can see it in her eyes._ He reminded himself, trying his best to convince himself that it was true and not just make-believe. 

Jorah let out a sigh and pulled up his shoulders. He would have to go out into the cold again. One more day here meant a day’s worth of fires, a day’s worth of firewood, and he was running low inside the house. As Jorah took the first step out, his feet going in knee-high into the snow, then took one laborious step after another, he thanked himself for the large stack of firewood he had piled up at the side of the house well over a month ago. At least he wouldn’t have to chop wood in this weather. He did curse himself for not bothering to grab a pair of gloves as he wiped off the snow from the logs with his bare hands. 

Jorah had two logs in his hand and was picking up a third when he felt the unmistakable sensation of a snowball breaking against the back of his uncovered head. He turned and saw Daenerys, her winter jacket zipped over her pajamas, her wide, flannel bottoms stuffed comically inside her boots, a handful of snowballs in the crook of her arm and a sprawling smile on her face. 

_God, you’re beautiful._

That was all Jorah had time to think before he had to dodge out of the way of another snowball, this time aimed at his face. 

“Daenerys!” He objected. 

Daenerys laughed her intoxicating laugh and threw yet another snowball. Jorah ducked again.

 _Oh, it’s on now!_ He thought as he dropped the firewood and ran for her; or made his best attempt at it, for running through the deep snow was almost impossible.

Dany shrieked, then turned and made her best attempt at running too. She didn’t run for the safety of the house, she ran away from it, into the blanket of virgin snow, throwing aimless balls at him and laughing as she did. 

As he fumbled through, Jorah picked up a handful of snow, quickly pressed it into a soft ball and threw it at her. It hit the back of her head and Dany shrieked again. A second later, she half-turned to him and threw one of her own, hitting him right in the forehead, the ball shattering into a thousand flakes. 

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” He playfully warned her, as he blinked away the snow from his eyelashes. Dany only giggled at the threat. 

He was gaining up on her and she was out of snowballs, but Dany didn’t relent. She was closer to the ground, or to the blanket of snow than he was, so she picked it up with a swipe of her hand and another, and threw it at him, making him close his eyes momentarily. It didn’t matter, he was close now.

“No! No!” She yelped thought laugher, turning towards him as Jorah reached her. He didn’t listen to her pleas, instead, he tackled her into the soft snow. The snow compacted underneath their combined weight and Daenerys laughed some more as she looked up at his face. 

“Yield!” Jorah said, a smile on his face.

“Never!” Dany protested as her snow-filled palm pressed to his face and rubbed the flurries over his features, half of them landing back on her own face.

Jorah grabbed both of her wrists with one hand and pressed them together over her head. There will be no more snowy surprises from the rascal.

“Yield.” He said again, softly this time, his eyes boring into hers, his eyelashes covered with flurries, his lips drawn to hers like a magnet.

“Never,” she breathed out, lifting herself to meet his lips.

Unmelted snow still lingered on both of their lips, it soon died with their kiss. Jorah let go of her hands, and wrapped one of his around the back of her head to kiss her better. Dany did the same, pulling him down to her until his body pressed to hers. They kissed for a long while, as snow slowly fell all around them, not wanting to part lips even for precious breath. When they finally did, Jorah looked at her, at the light in her eyes, at the wide smile on her lips.  
As a snowflake sacrificed itself for a taste of them, Jorah thought, _God, I love you!_

A devilish smile pulled at the corner of Dany’s lips, one very similar to the one she had given him right before deciding to scare Joffrey. 

_Oh, no!_

Dany’s face morphed into the most wide-eyed, innocent expression he had seen on her features. “Do you want to build a snowman?” She asked in the same, childish tone as the famous, inescapable song from a few years back. 

Jorah burst into laughter. Body-shaking laugher, the kind of laughter that leaves you weak in the knees, or in the arms in his case. He twisted himself off of her and landed back first into the snow, shaking his head in disbelief and laughing still. Dany laughed too, turning her head to look at him, the same light still in her eyes. 

The fingers of her left hand found the ones of his right. They were as cold as his, half-frozen even. She intertwined hers with his, then squeezed his hand gently. Laughter died as their eyes met, but the ghost of a smile lingered on their lips. 

_My kingdom for your thoughts!_ A penny would never be enough tribute for her. 

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun,” Dany said. 

“Three days ago?” He countered with a chuckle, remembering her parting words in the castle’s kitchen. 

Dany chuckled back. “I meant before then, before y—” She stopped and looked towards the sky. 

Jorah swallowed. “Me neither,” he said honestly. 

Lynesse wouldn’t have been caught dead exploring spider-web filled passages, or rolling in the snow in her pajamas. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in the little guest house either. 

If they were still married, he’d be on some expensive trip, or at an expensive party, surrounded by strangers who dressed in the latest designer clothes and drank only Armand de Brignac Champagne. He would have been bored out of his mind as they tried their best to find out if he was important, or rich enough to be paid any mind to. 

Jorah squeezed Dany’s hand. He was truly happy in this simple moment, laying in the cold snow, and, surprisingly, she seemed to be too. _Does Jon make you happy? Or is he your Lynesse?_ He was dying to know, but he could never ask. 

“It’s still snowing,” Jorah said instead, dancing around the untouchable elephant in the room. _The roads won’t be cleared today either. We’ll have another day._

Dany smiled. “Yeah… Isn’t it beautiful?” She said, her eyes still turned towards the sky, “White Christmases are my favorite. We don’t get any snow where I live. I wish we did. I wish it would snow and snow without stopping for weeks and months and… ” Dany swallowed, then turned to him, as she did, Jorah thought he saw a tear leaving the corner of her eye, a second later he thought better of it and decided it was just a melting flake. “I know Summer. Summer is familiar and… _safe_ , and if you ask anyone, they’ll tell you I was made for Summer. But Winter… Winter is new and scary, rugged and beautiful. It’s a maddening blizzard that twirls you around until you don’t know which side is up and which is down and it’s gentle snowfall that kisses your cheeks and turns them red.” Dany turned her gaze from him again. “Maybe I was made for Summer, and maybe it’s a silly thought to have, but I’d choose Winter if I could.”

Jorah felt as if he got punched in the guts, punched so hard that his heart had been transplanted to his throat where it pounded and pounded a maddening beat, keeping him from drawing breath. He swallowed his heart and turned his eyes from her. Looking up at the snow that danced down on him, he said, “People are not _made_ for seasons. We find a season and we fall in love with it, and we think that’s the only season for us, and then one day, 15 years later we wake up realizing that what we thought was Spring had been Fall all along and it _hurts_. It hurts at first, but then, you realize that you’re better off without Fall or Spring, and maybe you don’t want to know any other season and then… And then something happens on midwinter day and you’re reminded that Solstices, however rare, do exist and by God, are they special!”

_You are special._

Dany stayed silent for a long while. “Fifteen years?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s a long… _Fall_.”

“It was. Yes.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Not at all.” Jorah took a breath, then looked at her. He wondered if it was easier for her to speak like this, in metaphors, if she was willing to pour out her soul if Jon was Summer and Lynesse, Fall. He decided to continue on with the little game, he would play whatever game he had to if it meant finding out why she couldn’t choose him, couldn’t choose _Winter._ “How long have you… known _Summer_?”

“Almost all my life. But I’ve _truly_ known _Summer_ for two years.” Dany answered him, then asked a question of her own, “How long since you’ve been without _Fall_?”

“Almost 8 months.”

“That’s not a long time. Why did you and _Fall—_ ”

“Fall apart?” Jorah asked, and Dany chuckled. “Many reasons. But mainly, I think, I looked at her and saw Spring when all the signs of Fall had been there, and she looked at me and thought of Summer, when I’ve always been—”

Dany turned to him. “Winter.”

Jorah swallowed. “Yes. In the end, she found her Summer.” He didn’t tell her that Lynesse had found some of those _Summers_ of hers while still married to him. He couldn’t play the victim, nor had he any moral footing, not when he was in love with an engaged woman. Not when he remembered all the intimate ways in which he knew her body and she, his.

“Why Summer?” He asked needing to know and dreading the answer. _Why can’t you choose Winter? Why can’t you choose me?_

Dany’s gaze turned from him and her hand started shaking inside his. Jorah didn’t know if it was the cold or some emotion he wasn’t pertinent to. 

“My family… ” Dany stopped and set her jaw. She closed her eyes and shook her head, “Money. Power… ” She finally said. “A merger of Targaryen power and Stark money. Or what’s left of it… my father… he’s made some bad choices, this merger will save the family company, and this merger won’t happen without me marrying Jon, because the Starks only deal with family.” 

“Is that what you want?” Jorah asked, fighting to push the words past the knot that had formed in his throat. Dany’s hand shook harder in his.

A small, bitter half-laugh left her lips. “It’s the Targaryen way…” Dany swallowed and pulled her hand from his, she wrapped both of her arms around her torso to keep herself warm.  
“Sometimes I look back at my childhood and I can see my mother and father and they… they were never tender with each other, I never felt _love_ between them, and sometimes, when mom thought no one could see her, she would look so sad, so empty. She was only happy around me and Viserys… I think my parents married for similar reasons…” Dany huffed, “As I said, the Targaryen way. And I'm a Targaryen.”

Jorah lifted himself up on an elbow and looked at her, he still had a thousand questions to ask her, and he knew that if he didn’t ask them now the moment would pass and he might never get the chance, but Daenerys was starting to look like a snowman, a layer of snow covering her clothes, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body shivering, hair scattered with clumps of snow and ice.

“Let’s get you inside, you’re freezing.”

“No, I’m not ready yet.” She said, looking at him.

Jorah’s hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, “I’m not ready either... " _I want to stay in this moment, with you, forever,_ "...but you’re freezing.”

Dany’s lips shook under his finger.

Jorah lifted himself up. “Give me your hand,” he said, offering his. 

Dany took it, and he lifted her up, snow falling off of her winter coat and the now stiff, flannel pants.

Before him, Dany shook like a leaf in yesterday’s blizzard. He wrapped her in his arms, his hands moving up and down her back, trying to warm her up. Dany leaned into him and nuzzled her frozen nose in the crook of his neck. Jorah pressed her to himself, then kissed the top of her snow-covered head. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the crisp, fresh air of the morning and the smell of her silver hair. He knew this moment in time will forever be etched into his mind, his soul, just like all the other moments they had shared together. 

_You'll ruin me, Daenerys..._

“Go back inside," He said, pulling himself out of the embrace and looking into her eyes, "I’ll be in as soon as I gather some firewood.”

Dany’s mouth opened as to argue, but instead of words, the sound of chattering teeth came out. 

“Okk—kk—kay.” She acquiesced, then headed for the warmth of their little house.

Dany got out of her mostly wet and frozen-stiff clothes in a haste, making a bird’s nest pile on her side of the bed and leaving them where they stood. With shaky hands, she dug through her bag and cursed herself for not packing more clothes, but then again, it was supposed to be one day. _Just one day._

Her clean, dry clothes were down to a pair of jeans and a red, cashmere sweater. _Shit!_ Dany glanced at the dresser under the window and made for it. She opened a drawer and pulled out a sweatshirt, in another drawer she found a pair of pajama bottoms. The cool air of the bedroom nipped on her exposed skin and she put them both on in a hurry. 

Two steps away from the bed and the warmth of its covers, Dany stopped dead in her tracks, realizing what she had done. She looked down at herself, at the long, green and dark blue checkered bottoms, at the grey sweatshirt, with its arms so long they dangled way past her fingertips; none of the clothes were hers. She had no business going through Jorah’s drawers and yet the notion had not occurred to her while doing it. Not for one second had it felt wrong. It felt as if this were her home, _their_ home, as if they had been a couple for years, and sharing clothes were nothing short of natural. 

Dany got in bed and shivered under the comforter. _It’s just the cold._ She told herself. _Just the cold._

It was the temperature that made her bones shiver, not the realization that she had never felt so comfortable with anyone as she felt with Jorah. 

It was the drafty window that sometimes blew a thin tendril of cold air towards the bed, and not the notion that after two years together, she wouldn’t have even considered going through Jon’s stuff in search of clothing, of _warmth_. 

It was the now cold hearth that chilled her, it was not the memory of taking Jorah’s hand in hers the day after she had met him first and feeling as if she had done it a million times before, when it had taken her months to feel comfortable taking Jon’s hand in hers. 

_It’s just the cold_. She told herself again, but this time she knew she was lying.

 _Stupid! Stupid!_ She admonished herself. _This is getting out of hand, this is not your home, and he is not your fiance, what are you doing, Daenerys?_

Dany pulled the covers to her mouth and muffled a scream in the comforter. She shouldn't have told Jorah that she'd choose him if she could, she shouldn't have let herself get to where she had meant it.

Jon was the safe bet, he was familiar, he was solid ground. With him came money, power; through him, the Targaryen company would live on. Viserys would guide it into the next generation, and he would take the family name there too. And her father... her father would finally be happy, be _proud_ of her. It had all been planned out so long ago, she could not derail the plan. Not for anything, not for anyone. 

_I could never choose Winter._ She thought, determined to shut herself and her heart from him, but just at that moment, Winter came through the door, covered in snow, as Winter should be, yet carrying a pile of firewood to warm her with. Dany looked at the small smile on his face and at the overflowing light in his eyes and felt herself ablaze. With an internal sigh, she realized that it was much too late, he was already inside her heart and had made a home for himself in all its four chambers. _You'll shred it to pieces when I rip you out,_ she thought, then wondered if he'd shred his too, when he ripped her from his heart. 

“Warmer?” Jorah asked. 

“I am now,” Dany said and Jorah’s smile broadened. A knife twisted in her stomach, at the sight. She did feel _warm_ , warmed by his clothes, his bed and comforter, the smile on his face, the light in his eyes. _Oh, God... I... I..._

Jorah busied himself with lighting the fire in the bedroom, then left to do the same in the rest of the hearths. In his absence, Dany chuckled bitterly. _Shut myself from him,_ she mocked, _how can I, when the mere sight of him melts me?_ She glanced at the window, at the snow still falling. There was no choice to be made today, today she could let herself _be_.

_Just be..._

_...Happy._

Jorah returned and masterfully avoided stepping on the bird's nest pile of her clothes. He sat himself at the edge of the bed, the mattress indenting under his weight. His hand moved up and down her leg, fingers digging into her flesh, relaxing her stiff muscles. 

“Mmmh,” Dany moaned.

“I know how I can warm you up better,” he said as his fingers continued their lovely ministrations.

“Oh, really?” Dany said, craning her neck towards him, towards his lips. 

“I’ll draw you a bath,” Jorah said, his breath on her lips.

“Oh!” Dany said, blinking. “Oh!” She said again, liking the sound of that. “But there’s no hot water.”

“No, there isn’t,” he breathed on her lips, the words tickling them, “but there’s running water, and plenty of pots and pans and a gas stove that works.” Jorah’s lips planted a peck on the tip of her nose. “I’ll get on it.” He said, then got up and left.

Dany groaned, displeased by the placement of the kiss.

*

“Nice outfit,” Jorah said in front of the bathroom door, looking down at Daenerys’ choice of clothes. 

“I… I’m sorry, I should have asked… I was out of clean clothes, I—”

Jorah shook his head, “No worries, what’s mine is yours.” 

Dany swallowed, a fist clenching once around her heart. 

He opened the door and inside she could see a scattering of candles flickering above the porcelain of the sink, the windowsill and every other flat surface in the room. The light of the candles warmed the pale-grey light of winter seeping through the single window and made the room seem aglow. Above the large, white, slipper tub, translucent coils of steam danced over the water’s surface, and next to the tub’s base, two large pots and a measuring cup stood.. 

Jorah shrugged, “Did the best with what I had.” 

“You did great.”

Jorah smiled. “There are fresh towels on the rack and plenty of toiletries… I’ll leave you to it.” He said, then made to leave.

Dany’s hand caught his. “Don’t. Don’t go.” She said pulling him inside the bathroom. The tub was big enough for two, and Dany thought it would be a waste of resources to be the only one using it.

Jorah closed the door behind him, and Dany looked straight into his eyes as she took off her layers one by one. Another bird’s nest pile of clothes laid on the tile floor as soon as she was done, and Jorah chuckled softly and shook his head at the sight. 

The bathwater was hot but pleasant, and Dany felt it relaxing her muscles from the ankles up. With a contented sigh, she lowered herself down to her shoulders.

“Join me,” she said, scooting herself forward. Jorah took off his clothes and piled them on top of _hers,_ then squeezed himself behind her. The tub filled almost to the brim.

Dany leaned back until her head nestled on Jorah’s shoulder, and Jorah wrapped his arms around her; a little sigh left her lips. She was warm and content, a warmth that reached deep down to every nook and cranny of her soul. When Jorah’s lips pressed to her temple, she felt as if her entire being slowly melted into the hot water. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, without speaking, content with just the soft sound of the water lapping at their skin, with the feel of their bodies pressed together. 

_I don’t want to go._

The thought came into existence like a soundless burst of fireworks. It lit her mind's sky in shades of red for a moment, then vanished into nothing, leaving only darkness behind.

Jorah’s hand reached for the white bar of soap, then dunked it into the water, a moment later he lifted her right arm out of the bathwater with one hand, while with the other he glided the soap over her wet skin. Dany moaned at the soft, smooth pressure as the soap bar traveled up her arm, slowly. When it reached the top of her shoulders, Dany leaned to the side, focusing on the feel of the solid soap gliding over the flesh of her neck. Her nostrils filled with the smell of the soap, the same notes that she had inhaled on his skin. Her eyes closed on their own accord. 

_I want to stay._ Burst soundlessly behind her eyelids in orange.

The soap traveled down her chest, the pressure gone this time, only the smooth glide of it remaining as it lathered one of her breasts, then the other; as it moved further still, down to her belly, then down her legs as far as his arm could reach. 

_Here, with you._ Burst in incandescent blue.

Jorah put his hands around her shoulders and leaned her body forward. He glided the soap over the muscles of her neck, then down her back, this time adding the pleasant, soft pressure. Dany moaned as the knots in her back unraveled. 

With the soap now back on its little tray, Jorah cupped his hands and rinsed the lather off her skin. As he did, his lips pressed to the nape of her neck, the top of her shoulder, down her shoulder blade and down her spine. Each kiss traveled along a secret pathway of nerves and settled between her legs, making her folds slick.

 _For another day, for a lifetime_. Was a yellow as bright as the Summer Solstice sun.

Dany turned inside the constraints of the tub and the ones of his arms until she was facing him. She kissed him, soft and gentle, pulling him towards her and tasting him with the tip of her tongue, her fingers coiling around wet locks of hair. She moved her body until she could feel him, hard between her legs. Dany broke the kiss to look into his eyes as she lowered herself onto him, both their mouths opening wordlessly as he bottomed out deep inside her. She kissed him again just as slowly, just as tender and gentle, as her hips moved in a similar fashion. She wasn’t looking for release, she was looking for connection and by God, did she feel it. She could feel the edges of her soul, warm and pulsating, like a beating heart merging with the edges of his. She could feel part of that soul of hers leaving her mouth and being consumed by him. She could feel herself absorbing part of his and it only made her own soul glow with light and warmth. 

_I love you_. Lit up her mind’s sky not like fireworks, but like a blinding quasar. 

There was nothing else in the world besides the two of them and this _thing_ between them, this _love_ that they had found, or that they had grown in a season where nothing grows. 

Feeling full of him, stronger and more confident than ever, Dany made her decision.

_I’m not leaving._

_I’m not leaving you._

_I’m not…_


	7. December 27th

It was the gentle nuzzling of Jorah's nose at the back of her neck and the soft pressure of his arm around her belly as he pulled her closer to him that awoken Daenerys from her dreams. It was by no means an extraordinary act, it was but a mere, simple gesture. One not unlike the ones performed by her former lovers, or her current, official one, yet her heart had never swelled quite so large, and warmth hadn’t flowed so freely from its chambers as it did with _him_. 

Blinking away the sleep from her eyelids, Dany smiled, and not just with her lips, but with her heart too. _I could have a lifetime of this. Of lazy mornings cuddled together for warmth, of slow dances in the kitchen and meals by the fireplace, of playing in the snow like children, of playing like adults in the steaming tub and… other places. I could have all this and more._

_All I have to do is be brave._

_Once._

_Just once._

The more she thought about it, the more achievable her dream seemed. It was simple, really, Dany decided. She would tell Jon that it was for the best, that they didn’t love each other as they should, that he deserved someone who loved him properly. As did she. Then, she would tell Viserys. He’d be furious of course, it was to be expected, but it didn’t matter. She was in the right, she was not for sale, and she wouldn’t trade her future, her happiness for the family business. And then, she would stay, with Jorah, and watch the cars drive off one by one, with one less passenger. One passenger that wouldn’t have to face her father, explain herself to him and see the disappointment in his eyes. 

_I can do it. I can do this_ , she thought, driving away the image of her father from her mind.

Content with her simple plan, Dany cast her eyes to the window, to the top corner of glass she could see with her head still on the pillow. The snow still fell with heavy flakes just as it did yesterday and a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. There was still time, time to find the right words to tell Jon and Viserys, time to gather up all her courage to do so. 

Dany turned in Jorah’s arms and looked at the man she had chosen for herself, all by herself. She would have to tell him too, he would be the first to know of her plan.

With a chill, she realized they had never talked about what was happening between them. _Does he want me?_ Crossed her mind sharp as a knife’s edge, but the edge dulled at the sigh of his sleepy eyes focusing on her. There was so much behind that blue. She had no words to describe what she saw there, but she needed none, _they_ needed none. It was as clear as a summer's day that he wanted her. 

Dany smiled and words of love filled her mind. They traveled to the tip of her tongue begging to be uttered. 

“Good morning,” came out instead, and with regret, Dany found that words of love were much harder to set free when true. 

“Good morning,” Jorah said and his blue was overflowing with warmth, with _love,_ both of which Dany felt seeping right into her heart. 

One of her thumbs lazily ran over his lips, the tip of it tickled by golden beard. She let it settle on his cheek, then pressed her lips to his. _I love you,_ she said inside her head, wishing she could make the words leave her mouth. She would try again later, for now, her lips were too busy with his. Her hand traveled down his neck, headed for a destination much further down. 

Ding! 

His fingers were in her locks, pulling her closer to him, close enough to feel—

Ding!

Dany moaned, low and raspy and dug her fingers into his back as his mouth left hers to kiss a trail down the soft, sensitive flesh of her neck.

Ding!

“Fuck!” She groaned, then pulled away, but not before placing one last peck on his lips. Dany turned from him and reached for the dinging culprit, her phone, nestled on top of the nightstand. The covers pulled away from her naked skin as she stretched to reach it and Jorah kissed the exposed flesh, making Dany giggle. 

**“Yey!!!!”** Read the last text displayed on her screen. 

Dany unlocked her phone and read the other two, in order this time.

**Missandei: We’re coming to get you!**

**Missandei: We’ll be there shortly!**

**Missandei: Yey!!!!**

_No!_

Instantly, the world beneath her gave way and Dany felt herself dunked into icy-cold water. All the warmth was gone, only cold remained.

**“What?”** She typed with shaky fingers, her heart pounding out of her chest. **“How?”**

**Missandei: Joffrey and Viserys got tired of waiting around. They called Tywin and he took care of it.**

**Dany: HOW? It’s still snowing!!**

**Missandei: I'm not sure... money? Power?**

**Missandei: From the time Tywin said he’ll take care of it until the snowplow showed up, Joffrey would not shut up about Lannister power, connections and wealth.**

**Missandei: It was annoying...**

**Missandei: but hey, it worked to everyone’s advantage! We’re coming to get you!**

_Goddamned Lannisters!_

“Is everything alright?” Jorah asked sounding concerned, but Dany did not answer, could not answer. There was something inside her that was cold and shaking, and angry and scared and it kept growing and growing. 

**Missandei: We’re driving behind the snowplow now, should be there soon.**

**Missandei: Get packing, we’re leaving as soon as we're all packed up. Everyone has had enough of this place.**

With trembling fingers, Dany typed all she could bring herself to type, **“Ok”**

Her eyes were still on the phone’s screen but Dany was lost inside her head. She was frozen again, just as she had been on Christmas day, after talking to Jon. And she was torn between the immobility of despair and the need to _run_ , to bolt out of the bedroom, the small house and run for the castle before she could be found out. 

_Oh, God! Oh, God, what have I done?!_

She had been a fool thinking that she could stay, thinking she could face Jon and Viserys, thinking she could disobey her father. She could do neither. She was not strong, she was not courageous, she was merely Icarus trying to escape her prison on wings of feathers and wax, wings forged on love and passion. But what was wax under the heat of the Sun, and what was love under the weight of family obligations and duty? 

She was crashing back to Earth; melted wax dripping on her body, feathers falling around her like snow. Spinning and spinning and spinning down towards the cruel ground, much too eager to deliver that fatal blow. 

_I have to go! I have to go, I have to—_

“Daenerys?” Jorah asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Dany melted under his gentle touch, but almost instantly the warmth of it turned singeing hot. It burned her. “I have to go!” She said brushing his hand off and getting out of bed. “My, my friends, they got a snowplow, they’re on their way,” she added as she searched for her clothes. Her leg was halfway up a pant leg when she realized it was not her pair of pants she was putting on. _Fuck!_ She grabbed the last of her clean clothes from her bag and began putting them on, “I have to go! We have to go back to the castle.” _They can’t know what we’ve done. What I’ve done!_

“Stay,” Jorah said barely a whisper.

A fist clenched around her heart at the word and Dany stopped. _He does want me, just as I—_ She shook her head and continued packing. It didn’t matter, reality had barged in cold and vile, shattering the fantasy of the last few days. For it was nothing more than a fantasy. She could not give up on her family, on her friends, on her life back home. 

“I can’t, I can’t! If I do, I’ll have nothing!” Her father would see to that, she would be disowned and penniless.

Jorah swallowed, “Plenty of people have nothing.”

“You want me to give up everything? For what? For _you_?” She asked with anger in her voice as she shoved the last of her laundry inside her bag. She wasn’t angry with him, she knew that much, she was angry with the likes of Tywin and Joffrey that could make people do their bidding with a phone call and a wad of cash, and with her father for forcing her to marry Jon. Power and money, money and power; they were what made the world turn, not some celestial force, and not love.

“For yourself,” Jorah answered. “Stay for yourself, make a life for yourself, not one laid out by your family!”

Dany huffed. “You don’t know me, you don’t know—” 

“I don’t?” 

“You don’t!” She spat out. _You do,_ rang somewhere in her head, but she refused to listen to it. She couldn’t be here anymore, couldn’t face him, couldn’t sit still when every minute in this house meant that her friends were a minute closer to finding her out. Dany grabbed her bag and made for the door.

“Daenerys,” Jorah called after her, “Daenerys, don’t go!”

Her hand wrapped around the knob.

"Daenerys, I love you.”

His words were frost inside her bloodstream, freezing her where she stood. Her hand clenched on the knob so hard she feared she might dent it. 

“I love you,” she heard again and this time the words were fire and fuel inside her veins, igniting her heart and revving it, making it pound and pound, and feel _so_ much. So damn much that she could burst at the seams. She pressed her lips together hard and painfully to keep them from shaking as tears welled up in her violet eyes.

“I have loved none more than I love you,” Jorah said in his deep, raspy voice.

Her head bowed slightly as tears ran down her face. _Nor have I_. Her hand shook on the knob. _Nor have I,_ she thought again as she turned the knob and left the bedroom. 

Dany closed the door behind her and pressed her back to it, a low whimper leaving her lips without permission. _I have to go,_ and _I don’t wanna go_ , fought for dominance inside her head, her heart, tearing her in two. 

'I have to go' won.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked around the tiny house that had felt like home, knowing that it would be the last she’d see of it. Her eyes settled on the Christmas tree, then trailed upwards to its top, her feet moved towards it of their own accord. She stood on the tips of her toes and grabbed the Edelweiss ornament. In the palm of her hand, the petals and florets seemed to almost come alive. Her hand clenched on it and Dany pressed it to her chest, to her heart. She kept it there for a moment, then another, remembering all that had transpired between her and Jorah in the past few days, then cursed her luck and herself, and the Lannisters and Targaryens and the Starks, all the while wishing she were strong enough to make a different choice. 

The sound of the bedroom door opening made her jump and Dany quickly shoved the ornament inside her bag. She dared cast her eyes on Jorah only for a moment, but the moment was enough to send a hot poker through her heart. He had never looked so sullen, so broken, and she wished for nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and make him whole again. She couldn’t. If she did, she feared she might not let him go. 

Dany swallowed, turned and walked out of what had been her home. Jorah followed in her steps. 

They said nothing to each other as they hurried towards the castle.

There was nothing to say.

There were a million things to say. 

Dany’s heart and mind were too busy tearing themselves in two to utter any words. Half of her wanted to stay, wanted to plant her feet into the thick snow and grow roots deep into the nourishing soil beneath. And so much of her wanted Jorah, but every time she thought of him, shame and guilt rolled painfully inside her stomach, as did fear. Fear that Jon, Viserys and her friends would find out what she had done, fear that there might be no wedding and that _she_ would be the one responsible for her family losing the merger and a fortune. She could not let that happen, she could not destroy the Targaryen name like that.

With every fast, laborious step she took through the snow, the tear in her heart ripped further, like a loose thread in a seam. _My box, my box_ , she desperately thought, looking for her words strung together like pearls. With shock and horror, she noticed her necklace broken, loose pearls rolling inside her box.

_No, no, no. How? When? Why?_ Swam inside her head yet she found no answers. Having no time to fix it, Dany tried shoving the man that was walking behind her and everything that had happened between them inside her mental box. _Please, Please,_ she begged, but no matter how much she tried, she found that she couldn’t, the Jorah inside her head refused to budge.

Dany's heart kept ripping and tearing. 

Without as much as a glance towards Jorah, Dany climbed the stairs in a hurry and made for her and Jon's bedroom, the bedroom she should have never left, not that first morning in search of tea, nor the second one in search for a man that was not her fiance, and not any other day after that.

She opened the door to that bedroom and gulped. The room was freezing cold, still and unlived-in. Everything about it accused her of abandoning it. _He'll know,_ Dany realized with horror, _once Jon opens the door, he'll know I haven't slept in our room._

Her rag of a heart sped up in her chest. She needed to start a fire, needed to make the room look lived in. She needed... _Jorah!_

_No!_ She admonished herself for even thinking that. She had no time, nor skill to make a fire, instead, Dany decided she'd come up with an excuse for the lack of warmth inside their bedroom.

' _The fire had gone out some time ago.'_

_No!_

_'There had never been a fire inside the bedroom’s hearth.'_

_Yes, that's good,_ she decided, then ran for the closest bedroom where she snatched the comforter off the bed and dragged it back to her and Jon's bedroom, piling it on top of the other. _Yes, yes, this is good, this works_ , she decided, then punched the pillows on her side of the bed and fluffed the comforters so that they would look used. _He can't know, Jon can't know what I've done. No one can know about me and Jorah!_

_Jorah!_

_Oh, God, oh, God!_

The thought of him twisted her stomach and ripped at her heart with sharp talons. _I have to yank him out, I have to yank him out,_ she thought as images of him flooded her mind. She fought them, but they kept coming and coming like slides in a projector. 

Dany sat down at the edge of the bed as her mind swirled with everything that had transpired between them. Her chin wrinkled and her lips shook as tears rolled down her cheeks, her hands fisted on the comforter.

She looked for him and found him inside the four chambers of her heart. The connection and the secrets they had shared lived in her right atrium. Christmas, with its morning surprise and its edelweiss ornament and its slow dance, resided in her left ventricle. Exploring the castle's dark, secret passages hand in hand lay nestled inside the right ventricle. And in her left atrium, yesterday, with its snowball fight and its warm bath had made a home.

She could almost feel the lazy sway of their hips as they danced, the warmth of his embrace as he held her, the taste of his mouth, the smell of his skin, she could smell him now too. Dany closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of him filling her nostrils; how she loved the smell. Her eyes blinked open, wide and startled. She smelled like him, the scent of his soap, of him, still lingered on her skin.

_No, no!_

She ran for her bathroom and fumbled in the poor light until her fingers wrapped around a bottle. She looked at the expensive, limited edition perfume in her hand that Jon had given her on her last birthday and swallowed, it was more to his liking than hers, but she had used it nonetheless. Dany let out a sharp breath, then clenched her jaw. As the tip of her finger pressed on the nuzzle, she yanked Jorah out of all her four chambers. 

*

Everything felt like a trance, like an out-of-body experience where Dany saw herself move and talk, act and react, but did not recognize herself. There was a disconnect happening and she didn't know why or how, and more importantly, she didn't know how to get back to herself.

_Maybe it's for the best._

Her friends had shown up, loud and chatty, happy to be back, happy to start packing and get ready to leave. 

Jon had been the first to greet her, his arms had wrapped around her and he had kissed her. She had kissed him back and had tried so damn hard, and failed, to stop her stomach from rolling as she did. Missandei had greeted her next, hugging her tight, then the rest of the girls had swarmed her, asking her about the past few days, but barely waiting for her reply before each started chatting about the _'horrible experience'_ they had been through. Dany had never been happier to hear their useless clamoring. Her brother had been next, asking her the same empty question, then complaining of the situation they had found themselves in and cursing this place. Dany hadn't bothered to agree with him even out of complaisance. 

Soon, the group had split out into the couples, each going for their rooms, each packing to leave before the snow covered the road that led down into town yet again. 

Jon had said nothing as they had entered their cold, unlived-in bedroom, and Dany let out a relieved breath. 

Barely thirty minutes later, they were all gathered in the large, first-floor living room, piles of luggage at their feet. 

"Everyone ready to get out of here?" Tyrion asked and all hummed their 'yes'.

Everyone except Dany, for her eyes were saying their goodbyes to the dining hall where they had had dinner each evening they spent in the castle. A thin smile pulled at her lips as she remembered Joffrey's scared and pale face. Her eyes moved across the long table and landed on the Christmas tree. Her stomach twisted and turned as she saw the now almost barren tree and remembered the fully decorated one inside the house she had thought of as home. 

_Shit!_

She needed to leave this place where everything incriminated her, this stage of her infidelity, this place where _he_ lived. Here, Jorah was everywhere, and nowhere. She hadn't seen him since the trek through the snow. 

_Oh, God! Oh, God! The snow, the tracks leading from the house to the castle. They'll see them and they'll ask and I won't have any answers. I need to go, we need to go, now! Oh, God!_

That thing inside her that was cold and shaking and scared grew again and she wanted to run again, run before they would figure it out, before all of this was for nothing, before she... before... 

Dany's heart skipped as she heard, "Hodor." The tall, large man, bowed his head in salute, a sprawling smile on his face and because of all the Hodor stories Jorah has told her, now, Hodor did not feel like a stranger, but more like an acquaintance she had grown fond of. 

"Hodor!" Hodor said again as he made to grab the luggage out of her hand.

"That’s okay, Hodor, I've got it," Dany said, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. 

Hodor smiled and bowed his head again. 

"Here, take mine and Sansa's," Joffrey not so much said as demanded.

The group followed Hodor towards the antechamber, all of them ready to leave and none more than Dany. But her heart stopped and her knees wavered as he saw Jorah waiting by the door. 

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience these past few days have caused you," he said looking each of them over.

Dany gulped at the sound. She didn’t know if his words were for her ears too, but it felt like they were.

Joffrey made a face and groaned something under his breath. With Sansa on his heels, he walked out of the castle paying no mind to Jorah.

"Nonsense!" Tyrion said, offering his hand, "It was a force of nature, inevitable, and if we're honest, it was our fault for going down in the first place."

Jorah nodded, and nodded some more as the group gave their short goodbyes. 

Jon and Daenerys were the last to go.

"Thank you, for keeping Dany safe," Jon said, extending a hand, "I appreciate it, truly." 

Jorah looked at it for a second, "Of course," he said as he took Jon's hand in his. "You're a lucky man." 

Jon's lips pulled into a half-smile as he glanced over to Dany. With a nod towards Jorah, he grabbed Dany's luggage and his own and walked out the door. 

An inaudible breath of air left Dany's lungs as Jon's feet left the threshold.

She was safe, her secret was safe. 

Her eyes landed on Jorah and she could see the crack in the facade he had put up for everyone. Under her scrutiny, it chipped further and each chip, in turn, chipped at her own front. 

Dany swallowed and extended a hand to him.

He didn't take her hand, instead, he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. It lasted a mere two seconds but in those seconds whatever stub was left of her torn and shattered heart started to beat again. 

_I don’t wanna go!_

Jorah let her go and took a step back, "I wish you all the best, Daenerys." 

And just like that, all her necklaces and her boxes, all the ways in which she ripped him from her heart meant nothing when love grew anew at the sight of him, at the feel of his arms around her, at the way he said her name in that voice of his. 

She could not cry, yet her eyes were screaming for the release, she could not speak, yet she was full of words, the words that had rung in her mind just a moment ago, the three little words she could not utter last night or this morning.

Dany nodded and turned from him. Her choice had been made, there was no turning back.

_It will get better in time,_ she encouraged herself as her feet moved past the threshold. 

_Time heals all, time wipes away the memories,_ she added as she walked with heavy as lead steps back to the cars, where her friends waited. 

Dany climbed in the back of the car and waited to be driven away. She was a passenger again, she had boarded the tram again, going down the tracks laid down by her father, watching from the window as life moved on its predetermined course, with little stops along the way: Marriage Street, Good Wife Avenue, Motherhood Lane and finally, the depot, Death. 

Dany refused to turn her head and catch one last glimpse of Jorah, refused to glance at the rearview mirror as she waited, even though she wanted nothing more.

_If I look back I am lost._

*

Jorah watched as Daenerys walked towards her friends, and each step she took away from him felt like a knife to the heart. He felt life draining out of those wounds inside his heart, leavening behind nothing but an empty shell. 

He thought he had found something that had been missing all his life, but he hadn't, it was all a mirage. It had all been in his head, in his heart, in his soul, none of it inside hers. 

He huffed bitterly as he watched her board one of the cars, his blue eyes dark and glossy.

_I was right,_ he thought, _you ruined me, Daenerys._

Jorah had been too focused on Daenerys to notice that Viserys had never left. Not until he turned to make his way back inside the castle and saw the man standing there.

"Did you forget something?" Jorah asked.

"No," Viserys said simply, yet made no move to leave. "I just wanted to thank you for taking good care of my sister."

"No thanks needed," Jorah said, but the man barely seemed to acknowledge his words.

"I was looking around your place one last time, a few things are different than I remember." 

Jorah lifted his brows but said nothing.

"The Christmas tree inside the dining hall has somehow lost its ornaments, I was wondering how that happened."

"It has? Hadn't noticed." Jorah offered, his face blank.

"And curious enough, there's a footpath going towards the castle, I noticed it as we came in."

Jorah blinked at that.

"Two kinds of footsteps, one larger, one much smaller."

"Would not have taken you for a tracker."

"Oh, no, I'm not," Viserys said, then added with a smug face, "just curious by nature."

"I'm sure I know nothing about that either," Jorah said starting to feel annoyed with the questions, but at the same time not wanting to raise any suspicions for Daenerys' sake. 

There was something in Viserys features that changed as he asked, "Which room did you sleep in?" 

"One in the West wing, it's off-limits for renovations. Any more questions?" Jorah asked with an edge to his voice.

Viserys took a step closer to Jorah, "Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you're looking at my sister," he hissed, "I don’t know what the two of you did all those days together, but it doesn’t matter, she’s engaged to be married to a handsome, _wealthy, young_ man. You…" Viserys looked Jorah over with disgust, "you're nothing, just entertainment, something to help pass the time, keep away the cabin fever. Got that?"

Jorah's nostrils flared as he shortened the distance between them, "I think it’s time for you to leave before I kick you off my property." 

"Oh? Really? As I recall we paid to be here for five days, yet we only spent two."

"I’ll give you a refund," Jorah spat. "And a boot up your ass."

"No need, I’m sure you need the money, and it’s just pocket change to us," Viserys said with a whiff of superiority about him, then left.

Jorah didn’t remember how he found his way into the kitchen, everything since Daenerys' departure was nothing more than a blur and a jumble of emotions; of all the things that he had found, all that he had lost. All in the span of a few days.

His eyes were lost somewhere over the cup of coffee he had placed on the kitchen table, the same spot he had stood the morning Daenerys had come down in her pink shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. 

He wondered what he would do if he could do it all over again? Would he sneak out of the kitchen and stay away from her until she and her friends left? Or would he let her drag him out by the pinky again? 

There was no question, he would do it all again, no matter how much it hurt now, no matter how hallow he felt now. With her, for the first time in longer than he remembered, he felt alive, and happy, and connected and... _full_. He could tell her anything and he could listen to her talk for hours. He would never get tired of her bright, full-teeth smile, or the way her eyebrows came alive. He could, _would_ spend a lifetime loving her, hoping to be loved back just half as much. 

_'You're nothing, just entertainment'_

Her brother's words had gotten to him for, in the end, they were true. He thought he had seen the spark of love inside her eyes, but it had been just make-believe. She did not love him, nor cared for him, she had not said one word as he had begged her to stay, as he had professed his love for her. Their last words were a fight, their first, their last.

_'You don't know me!’_ She had spat out at him, yet he thought he did, not fully, but enough to know that she didn’t want to marry Jon, that she didn’t want the life that had been set out for her. 

He should have tried harder, he should have offered her everything he had, not just his heart, but the castle too, maybe then she would have stayed, maybe if his bank account was full enough to save her father's company maybe, maybe...

Jorah blinked himself out of his thoughts as Osha grabbed his cup of coffee and poured it out into the sink. A moment later, she replaced it with two clean mugs and pounded 3 fingers worth of whiskey in each. Wordlessly, she slid a mug under his nose, then took a sip out of hers. 

Jorah looked at the amber liquid, then at Osha. 

“This too shall pass,” she said, her voice soft. 

Jorah clenched his jaw. Osha, with her big, bright eyes that always saw more than he wanted her to see.  
She was right, of course, she usually was right about a lot of things. Everything fades with time... a week, a month, a year, a decade.

A lifetime. 

“Yeah,” he said, then took a gulp of his drink. 

As the liquor warmed his belly, Jorah realized that in the end, Daenerys had been his Edelweiss flower, gracing him with her rare beauty for mere moments, then returning to the soil from which she had come. 


	8. August

Jorah 

Jorah sat on a stool and looked at the wood carving on his workbench, at the grain that followed along with the topography of the face, the hills of her lips, the peak of her nose, the wooden knot that lay in the crook of her neck. 

He had kissed that spot and those lips back when they were made of flesh, back when they had been warm and alive and his for all of three days. His hands had cupped her cheeks, fingers had curled in her Edelweiss hair, a thumb had run over her lips, blue eyes had looked into purple tinted eyes… 

Jorah swallowed and picked up a piece of sandpaper, he hovered it over the Daenerys his mind and fingers had chiseled out of wood, chip by chip, waiting for the sculptor in him to take over, for his heart to turn itself off, for the few memories that had slipped through the cracks in his wall to disappear. The sculptor looked at the bust of Daenerys with the eye of an artist, not that of a discarded lover. The sculptor’s fingers could work the sandpaper over the linden wood cheeks without the need to caress them. 

As the windup radio played in the background, the lover was replaced by the artist, and its fingers began their labor. 

It had started one sleepless night, five months ago. He hadn’t meant for his fingers to carve the curvature of her lips, or the slant of her nose, he hadn’t meant to carve an Edelweiss crown upon her head either, but he had. Yet, he found that each chip of wood he carved from the block had been used to build himself a wall around the memories of her. It was poorly made, shabby and patchy, but it held together and grew taller with every chip, every splinter, every bit of sawdust. 

He was thankful for it. He was better for it. 

The December night that Daenerys had left him, Jorah had not slept. He had spent it roaming the cold, dark castle, restless and defeated, cursing himself and his useless heart for filling itself too fast and too fully with her. 

The next day the weather had turned, the roads had been cleared completely and power had come back on. The day after that, his next guests were due to arrive. He would not greet them as he had Daenerys’ group, nor would he greet any other group. He pawned the job off to Osha and made for the house he had shared with Daenerys, the one he hoped she wouldn’t leave. 

Jorah clenched his jaw and pressed on the door handle. This was _his_ home, it had been his long before she had made her way through the door, yet without her, it felt less like a _home_. 

A small, bitter huff left his lips as his feet took him inside, his fingers switching the light on. 

_Cold and empty_ , he thought, making his way towards the fireplace and starting a fire inside the hearth.

Soot covered hands wiped over the back of his jeans before he let himself fall down on the couch. 

_What now?_

He had no answers. The restlessness of yesterday still lingered in his soul, but so did a vast nothingness. 

Something was missing. _She_ was missing, and still… 

With his elbows on his knees, his head between his hands, Jorah looked around the house and found Daenerys everywhere. 

Her lips inching towards his by the fireplace. 

She, looking up at him by the Christmas tree, her eyes aglow. 

He could still taste her kiss on the tip of his tongue, could feel the press of her palms on his cheeks as she uttered a one-syllable word and he obeyed, taking her to bed. 

His eyes moved to the bathroom, to the tub they had shared. They had exchanged no words there and then, yet so much had been said as their bodies swayed in tandem. 

And worst still was that all his memories had a soundtrack, a song he hadn’t heard before that Christmas night, a song that had fit so perfectly, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of cosmic forces had been at play. 

_'Have I known you twenty-seconds or twenty years?'_ The song had asked.

_Both_ , Jorah decided. Those days had felt like a lifetime and at the same time, a mere blink of an eye. His eyes trailed towards the kitchen, where he could see the ghost of her wrapped in his arms, swaying to the melody.

_'You're my, my, my, my...'_

Jorah closed his eyes and set his jaw, waiting for the song that played between his ears to end. She was not his, she had never been his. Yet, he couldn't help replaying the past few days, wondering what he could have done to make her want to stay. 

By the time he went to bed, Jorah's head was spinning with her.

He crawled between the white sheets and discovered that his gravest torment was yet to come, for her scent still lingered on the pillows, bringing forward vivid memories of all they had done between those sheets. He could almost see through time and into the last morning they shared... her face turned to him, her thumb over his lips, fingers on his cheek.

_I thought I saw love then. I thought she..._ Jorah shook his head, _Forever the fool. Always seeing what I want, not what is there._

The ghost of her stayed with him that night, roaming the corners of his mind, roaming his little house until sleep finally took him. He found her there too. She followed him everywhere, even back to the castle; a flash of a blue dress in the great hall, a giggle between the walls, a puff of soot by the old fireplaces. 

High in the halls of the lords long gone, Dany's ghost beckoned him to join in her dance. 

She drove him mad in that fashion for three months, then Jorah went into his workshop, and turned everything his mouth would not let him utter, everything that he hid deep withing himself into labor, into art, just as he had done when he'd lost his mother, his father. And now, _her_.

Daenerys

_A gaggle of geese,_ Daenerys thought with a little smile on her lips as her eyes scanned the bridal boutique. Her bridesmaids were giggling and showering each other with compliments as they twirled in their blood-red dresses, the tulle bottom puffing up, making them look akin to Whirling Dervishes.

_They look a dream, all four of them._

“Your turn, your turn!” Sansa said, pushing Daenerys towards the fitting room, where her wedding dress awaited. She had chosen it months ago amongst gasps and tears, mostly from Doreah and Shae; amongst fast, short claps and screeches from Sansa and kind words from Missandei. 

As the bridal assistant helped her into the dress, Dany remembered just how much she loved the simple elegance of it. It was perfect, even more so now that the small alterations had been made. Her hands tentatively slid across the perfectly smooth, heavy satin fabric, afraid to dirty the immaculate white.  
 _A dress fit for a queen,_ she thought, admiring herself and the gown in the mirror, a full smile blossoming on her face. The off the shoulder design of it made her clavicle and shoulders stand out beautifully, and the fold-over covered nicely the least toned parts of her arms.

Dany took a deep breath and started making her way out of the fitting room, eager to see her bridesmaids’ reaction. 

In four, short months, her father would walk her down the cathedral aisle in front of five hundred guests; her bridesmaids trailing behind her, dressed in their expensive, red gowns; her husband-to-be waiting for her in his dark grey tuxedo, surrounded by his groomsmen in their a lighter shade of grey suits. Everything had been meticulously planned, from the ceremony to the venue, from the sophisticated dinner menu to the five-tier cake, from the decorations to the singers and bands. Every single, little detail had been mapped, every single wrinkle ironed out.

_The wedding of the decade._

As she entered the salon where her maids awaited, Dany's eyes caught the shade of their dresses again. That shade had not been chosen by accident, just how Jon’s and his groom's men shades of grey hadn’t. _The merger of Targaryen red and Stark grey._ Of their families, of their companies. 

A merger witnessed and celebrated by 500 people.

Dany was sure she didn't know that many people. All her friends and family put together wouldn’t have amounted to fifty. The rest were her father’s friends and business acquaintances, as well as Ned Stark’s.

_Merger..._

But those thoughts vanished in a puff as her maids greeted her with screeches of joy and applauses, as well as an outpour of compliments and superlatives. 

"Oh my God, you look amazing!" Doreah said, and Dany smiled.

"Stunning!"

"So elegant and beautiful!" Missandei said, and Dany stepped on the short, but wide pedestal in front of the full-length mirror.

"Jon's jaw is gonna drop at the sight of you!"

Dany blinked, _Jon_. She pulled the corner of her lip into another smile, crooked this time. 

_Jon, yes, of course, Jon._ She thought as the bridal assistant straightened the trail behind her. 

_I love Jon,_ Dany reminded herself, draping one of her necklaces around her neck.

She had strung together all the loose pearls inside her box, one by one, with shaky fingers that had turned numb and bloody from the work. She had done so eight months ago as she’d been driven away from _Winter_. 

She did not let herself think of _Winter,_ not at all. _Winter_ was imprisoned in a dark corner of her box, never allowed to see the light of her thoughts. She had forged her box stronger and bigger because of _him_ , had done it as soon as her necklaces had been mended, as soon as she draped them over herself. 

With them on, she was much stronger. 

With them on, she had faced him, had taken his hand, and led him to the dark corner, had looked into his eyes as she shackled him there. 

With them on, she had left him there, never to return, sure that time would erode him into nothing. 

_The box can endure anything now._

“You look just like Grace Kelly!” Shae said, taking Dany out of her thoughts.

"The dress doesn't look anything like Grace Kelly's dress," Doreah argued.

"I know the dress doesn't, but _she_ does. She looks as beautiful and as demure, a true princess."

Dany smiled at her friend's compliment. There was something about this dress that made her feel royal and beautiful and almost... happy. On top of the pedestal, Dany did a little twirl, the dress puffing up like that of a Disney princess, the trail sweeping delicately behind, her smile widening.

When Dany caught herself in the mirror again, her heart skipped a beat, she couldn’t see herself, nor her dress. From the tip of her head to her toes and wrapped around her arms down to her fingers she was covered in words, in her _pearl_ necklaces. On each, she saw her own handwriting. 

_I am okay._

_I am happy._

_I can do this._

_I love Jon._

_This is what I want._

The words repeated themselves on and on. She was just words and strung together pearls. 

Dany gasped and her heart started racing in her chest.

_There is nothing left of me, I am gone, hidden..._

_There is nothing left of me..._

_There is nothing..._

_There is—_

Her breath caught in her windpipe and the necklaces tightened against her waist and her throat, choking her. Her fingers pulled at them but found nothing. 

"I can't—I can't—" Her hands fisted on the skirt of her dress as her feet ran for the fitting room. 

Her bridesmaids looked at each other in a stupor and the assistant followed in her footsteps, but Dany closed the door in her face, pressing her back to it. "I— I'm fine, I just need a minute," she offered with the last of her breath, trying to keep her voice leveled and everyone at bay.

Her fingers clawed at her neck again, nails scratching the flesh, trying to slacken the noose of pearls, all the while gasping for precious air. 

_Please, please._ She begged, but she did not know who she begged. _Let me go_ , Dany begged again as she slid to the cold, marble floor, fingers still searching for release.

_It's all in your head, they're not real, they're not real._ She reminded herself, trying to regain her composure, her breath.

_None of this is real_.

_None of this is real!_ The words echoed in her head again and again.

A few moments later, breath filled her lungs anew.

Dany did not lift herself from the floor, she tarried there, the dress now wrinkled and puffed up around her. She stared into nothing, her mind adrift.

_There's nothing left of me,_ she thought as a tear ran down a cheek.

She was nothing but words, but lies. Every single word wrapped around her body was a lie she had repeated enough times to _almost_ turn it into reality. Years and years of lies, of not being _okay_ or _happy_ , but forcing herself to feel as if she were, act as if she were. The con had worked time and time again, but she failed to realize that before she had conned anyone else, she had been conning herself first.

Dany's eyes caught her mirror reflection. She was still covered in words, in pearls, but now they hung and wrapped over her loose and scattered.

_This is what I want,_ draped like a sash. She looked at it until the words jumbled up together, until they were nothing but illegible scribbles. 

_What do you really want?_ Dany asked herself. 

_What do I want?_

_To be free to choose._

_To rip the words from me and never have a need for them again. To be sad when I'm sad, to say that I'm happy and mean it, to—_

"Everything okay?" Missandei called from behind the door.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Dany lied, startled, "I'll be out in a minute."

There was no time to ponder further.

_It's too late now._ She decided. _They've been with me for so long... I wouldn't know how to break the necklaces, wouldn't know who I'd be without my words._

Dany lifted herself from the floor and reached back for the gown's zipper. It was impossible; the fold-over satin barely allowed her any movement. Her arms were trapped by her own dress, one she had chosen for herself. No one had forced it upon her; she had had dozens of options, yet, when the time came, she had still chosen a beautiful cage. 

With a grunt of effort and a tear of fabric, Dany reached the zipper and freed herself. 

She placed the dress on the fitting room chair and put on her street clothes, then looked in the mirror again. There was only one necklace left around her neck, _I can do this_ , it spelled. 

One deep breath and a fake smile later, Dany opened the door. "Sorry, I don't know what got into me. Just overexcited, I guess." 

If Dany had been given more time to ponder, if she had not locked away the memories of a snowed-in little house, she might have remembered a time when she had no need for her necklaces to feel _happy_.

And, if she had looked within herself more, she might have found that she _did_ know how to break them. That _she_ had torn them apart, one by one, on a winter's day, when new words had lit up her mind's sky like fireworks. 

Jorah

Jorah put down the sandpaper and looked at his wooden Daenerys, at his labor of love and sorrow, of longing and evanesced hopes. 

His labor was over, done, and she was beautiful, even like this, when most of what he loved about her was missing; there was no spark of life behind her wooden eyes, he saw no mischief pulling at the corners of her lips.

There was a pained, pensive expression on her wooden face, though, one that he had caught glimpses of a few times during her stay. 

Even though Jorah had chiseled her out with his own hands, he could not say why his wooden Daenerys looked so pained and pensive, he had not meant for it, he had not meant to sculpt her at all, and yet, here he was, looking at her, his ghost.

"Will you cease your haunting now?" He wondered out loud, his face twisted in a similar fashion to hers, "Or am I to forever dance with your ghost?" He hoped she would finally, let him go. No, he hoped _he_ would let her go, hoped that maybe, _maybe_ everything he felt for her had been poured into the wooden Daenerys, trapped there for all eternity, unreachable and finally harmless. Hoped he had sanded down the cracks that allowed her to leave her confinement to torment and haunt him. 

As if answering his question, through the old speakers of the windup radio, a beat that Jorah had heard only once before started playing.

By the time he noticed it, the singer's voice asked, _'Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close?'_

A fist clenched around his heart and instantly he was transported back in time and place, to Christmas night, in the tiny kitchen not far outside his workshop's door.

She was in his arms, a hand tangled in his hair as the other dug its fingers into his back muscles, pulling him closer, her lips tracing a path from his lips down to his neck.

Jorah clenched his jaw. _God!_ He could feel her now, pressed to him, the ghost of her lips on his skin.

_'You’re my, my, my, my lover.'_ The song continued and Jorah shook his head. 

"You're not. You never were..." Tears welled up in his eyes but he did not allow them to fall, he wiped them away with the back of his hand, fast and half angry. He would not allow himself to wallow in her, not anymore. His dues had been paid and she was gone, off to be married to her young, rich fiance. Those winter days had meant nothing to her, _he_ had meant nothing to her, and by God, it pained him so much when she had meant everything to him. 

He was moving on, he had to, he knew it. He should have moved on long ago. 

_'Finally got you now, honey, I won’t let you fall.'_ The radio sang and Jorah bolted from his seat and straight for it. He grabbed it in his hands, fingers digging into its case and smashed it to the stone floor. 

The radio shattered to pieces with a loud bang, pieces of speakers and the antenna bouncing off the stone once, twice, then silence engulfed his workshop.

It was so quiet that he could hear his heartbeat between his ears and the damn song still kept playing on and on in his head. 

_'You’re my, my, my, my—'_

Jorah grabbed the nearest piece of wood and slammed it to the floor. He found that the sound blanketed his thoughts. He grabbed another, then another, then another. He flung them all to the ground or hurled them against his sawing table.

More and more, and louder and louder, just to cover that stupid song and the thoughts of her; to be able to escape her, to not let her shatter him again. 

When he was done, splintered wood and broken tools covered the floor from wall to wall.

Jorah sat among the damage, his head between his hands, his back pressed to his workbench, defeated. The cacophony had been a temporary relief, his mind still filled with her as soon as there was nothing left to destroy. 

"You'll always haunt me." He acquiesced squeezing his eyes shut, _and I... I'll always love you._

On top of the same workbench, the only thing untouched in a sea of destruction, the bust of Daenerys remained. She, he could never hurt, not even in a lifeless, wooden form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you guys do me a favor and tell me your honest opinion on something?  
> Do you think the sculpture looks or **feels** like Daenerys/Emilia?


	9. December

—Daenerys—

A few days after the fitting, the tear in Dany’s wedding dress had been mended by the bridal shop seamstress. The woman had paid no mind to it, the job had taught her plenty that excitement got the better of even the most demure of brides.

And so, the dress, bright white and pristine once again, hung in Jon's and Daenerys’s master closet, waiting to be worn.

But there had been another tear that August day, a much smaller one, but so much more important. No one had noticed it, not even Dany, but as she tore the seam of her dress, something inside her ripped too. 

The tear grew larger and larger each time she forced herself to say _'Yes'_ when her mouth wanted nothing more than to round itself into a _'No!'_

It widened as she listened over awkward, endless dinners to her father and Ned Stark plan the future of their merging companies. It lengthened as she bit down on her tongue and pulled her lips into a smile instead of speaking her mind. It screamed in shades of bruised red as she heard Viserys talk of expensive trips and parties he would afford yet again. 

Dany looked over the overfilled dining table in her father's mansion. It was meant to show wealth and opulence, two things her father treasured, both things he lacked, but that had never stopped him from putting up a show, nor did it stop her brother. _Nothing but pyrite made to look like the gold we lost along the way._

She craved the courage to look each patriarch over and ask, 'When will it be enough? How many digits must your accounts have before you finally look around and notice that neither I nor Jon are happy?’

She wanted to turn to her father, look him in the eyes and ask him if he'd done the math, if he knew down to the last coin how much he was selling her, _his daughter,_ off for.

She couldn’t do it.

This was the Targaryen way. And the Stark way, and Lannister, and Baratheon and Tyrell. The ways of the old families, it was... tradition.

 _Tradition_ , Dany huffed, knowing that it was all a crock of shit. None of them really cared about tradition, they were just making sure their money and the power that came with it never strayed too far from the family.

Her eyes scanned the table, wondering, _Would Catelyn Stark have married Ned if she had been free to choose? Would Sansa have settled for Joffrey, the man child?_ Her gaze lingered on her father, _Would mom have chosen you?_

Dany swallowed and turned to Jon, who looked about as sullen as she was.

_This isn't how it should be, Jon. I should be happy, you should be happy too!_

In less than two weeks they were to wed, and as they moved closer to the wedding, Dany felt no joy stirring in her belly, no flutter in her heart, instead, she felt hollow, vacant. 

Her hand wrapped around Jon's forearm, looking for some form of a connection. Jon turned to her, his lips pulled into a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

She had hoped to see a flicker of love there, something she could anchor herself to, be it small, be it a crumb. She found nothing.

Dany smiled back because it was expected of her, because she had been taught to.

_You don’t want me either, do you?_

_Then stop this!_ She urged him inside her head, hating him for not having the courage she herself lacked. _You can stop all of this, blame me if you will. Tell them I'll make a horrible wife, tell them you don't want me. Tell them whatever you want, just stop this!_

Jon's eyes turned from her and back to his family. _My family too soon enough,_ she thought and did not care for it. 

Dany swallowed, then plastered a thin smile on her face. As the diner went on and on, the conversation turned into nothing more than background noise and she retreated inside her head. There, all the questions that had managed to squeeze through that tear demanded answers. 

_When was I taught to always be 'the good girl'?_

_When did I learn to always say 'Yes'?_

_When had ‘No’ stopped being an option?_

_When was it that I lost myself?_

Her thoughts continued to flood with questions she would much rather ignore. Things were so much simpler when she could wrap the pearl necklaces around herself and feel better, but they were gone. She had lost them all, one by one, after the dress fitting.

Or so she thought.

The necklaces were still there, in the same spot she had left them, but she could no longer see them, for they had changed.

The nacre had finally melted away leaving behind what had always been there, _doubts, sand._

For just as an oyster covers the irritant grain of sand with nacre to soothe the pain, turning it into pearls, Daenerys had covered her doubts and turned them into lies. 

_I am okay._

_I can do this._

_I am happy._

_This is what I want._

_I love Jon._

She had no nacre left, no more hollow affirmations. Just sand, just doubts.

By the time the diner ended, Dany found no answers, but a new question. One that kept on haunting her for days. 

_Who would I have been, if I were allowed to blossom, if the soil from which I grew had been nourishing?_

—Osha—

Osha should have been happy, after all, since that whole business with the first renters last year Jorah had more or less let her run the castle as she pleased. She liked the new position, for the most part, though sometimes dealing with guests truly tested both her poker face and her anger management abilities. But it was better than her previous one, and it paid better too. Well, she had paid herself better, but fairly. With new income finally coming in, they could afford it. That isn't to say that all their money problems were gone, far from it. The castle's upkeep still ate a good chunk of it and it would continue to do so for as long as it stood, but they were no longer drowning. Now, they were floating. 

But Osha was not happy, not at the moment anyway, what she was was pissed.

Thirty years on this earth and she had minded her own damn business for all of them. Even with Lynesse, not once had she told Jorah he was being an utter fool. _'It's not my business,'_ that had been her motto all her life, yet now she found herself trekking through Jorah's destroyed workshop, careful not to step on all the knocked over wood and splinters, tools and the now rusty nails, as well as the other dozen workplace safety violations scattered on the floor.

She hated breaking her own rule, but someone had to do something about it, and sure as hell that someone wasn't gonna be Jorah. 

Her plan was a poor excuse for a plan, _a Hail Mary_ , a fool's errand if she were honest. She should have thought of it, or of something better much sooner, not now, just days before Christmas, before it was too late.

She hadn't, and now she found herself scrambling.

The thought of just calling the silver-haired woman had crossed her mind, but the idea died about as soon as it formed. What could she possibly say?

_"Hi, I'm the kinda-sister-but-not-really of the guy I'm pretty sure you had an affair with last Christmas... Does that ring any bells? Anyway, he's not over you... any chance you might not be over him either?"_

It wouldn't work. Of course, it wouldn't. Daenerys would hang up on her before she had the chance to utter half of that. Any normal person would. 

This needed something more than a call. Something _bigger_.

“Hodor!” Hodor complained, from his spot in the doorframe.

“No, don’t you dare _Hodor_ me! Just keep an eye out for him,” Osha scolded, but she couldn't blame him, not really, _Even he understands how stupid this plan is._

“Hodor!” 

Osha huffed under her breath as she squeezed her foot between two wooden boards, making her way towards Jorah's work desk, _If I break an ankle I'm gonna kill him._

“I’m doing this for him," she explained, "it’s been almost a year and he’s _still_ not over her.”

“Hodor!” Hodor lamented, knitting his eyebrows together and picking at his fingernails.

It was in moments like these that Osha wished Hodor understood the complexities of life and saw all the shades of grey in it. For him, life was black and white, and what Osha was doing now, breaking into Jorah's workshop, was wrong.

“I don't wanna do this either, trust me! But I have to do something. Do you want to spend the rest of your life dealing with _this_ Jorah? Because I don't! I've had it up to here with the extra moping around and the reclusiveness." Osha said raising her hand above her head.

Hodor let out a small, "Hodor."

"You know Jorah, he's too... _Jorah_ to do anything about it, and that's why we’re here, we're giving him a helping hand.”

The man fidgeted between the door frame for a moment and another, then asked, "Hodor?"

"Yes, I'm sure...

"I've thought this through believe it or not," Osha said with more conviction than she actually possessed a mere step away from Jorah's desk and the thing she had come here in search of. "There was something there on both sides. You saw them together that morning in the kitchen, and you should have seen them on Christmas Eve, they were like two teenagers caught in the act. And we both saw her face when she left, that girl did not want to go." 

Osha reached the desk and her hands wrapped around Daenerys' wooden cheeks, "It looked a lot like this, didn't it?" She said, lifting the carving for Hodor to see the sadness chiseled into her features.

Hodor nodded. 

She didn't make for the door, instead, she dusted off Daenerys' face hoping with all her might that she was right. That this woman loved Jorah back and that it wasn't too late.

She would never admit it to Hodor or anyone else for that matter, but for the first time, she was genuinely worried about him. There was something about Jorah that was... _gone_ , something that that silver-haired girl had taken with her when she left, and if there was a chance in hell the thief might come back and return what she had stolen, then Osha would damn well take it. 

_Almost a year..._ she thought and looked at the carving, _young, beautiful girl like you... you probably have forgotten all about him._

_What the hell am I doing? This is going to be a disaster._

"Ho-Hodor!" 

Osha blinked herself out of her thoughts and turned her eyes to Hodor, "Would you still be pining over a girl you spent but a few days with, a year ago?" She asked.

Hodor shook his head.

"Of course you wouldn't, _you're_ a smart man _,_ " Osha said and started her careful trek back towards the door.

Hodor began swinging in the frame as he wrung his hands together, "Hodor! Hodor!"

“No, he’s not gonna notice it’s gone, he hasn’t been in the workshop since the day he made this mess _."_

“Hodor! Ho-dor!”

“Yes, of course I know what I’m doing!" Osha lied. She had very little faith in her plan to start with and it only faded the more she thought about it. Plus, if Jorah were to come back to his workshop and see the carving gone— She inhaled sharply. _Well... I'll cross that bridge when I get to it._

Hodor moved out of the doorframe as Osha reached him. "Now let’s go find Jojen so he can deliver this to her."

Just the other day Osha had procured Daenerys' work address from Google and her home address from Gilly. Google had been easy. Gilly had taken quite a lot of persuasion, but in the end, she had gotten through to her by preying to her softer, romantic side. 

"Hodor," Hodor agreed.

"The boy better not disappoint me if he knows what's good for him." Osha said as she and Hodor made their way out of Jorah's home, the wooden Daenerys' in her arms.

_Whatever happens... at least I tried._

—Daenerys—

Daenerys made her way down the circular stairs and into the living room wearing her soft, cotton pajamas and house slippers. Even though it never got below freezing here, the weather had finally turned, and a pleasant chill settled in for the season.

She would change into something more appropriate later, once she had her morning tea, or maybe coffee. _Coffee,_ she decided, needing a pick-me-up.

As soon as her feet touched the landing, her eyes settled on Jon for a moment, then traveled upwards over the beautiful Christmas tree he was decorating.

"What's this?"

"Morning!" Jon said with a smile on his face, tying a red globe to the edge of an artificial branch, "It's a Christmas tree." 

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," Dany countered raising her eyebrows, but with a smile in her voice. "What's it doing here? The wedding is in a few days and then we're off on honeymoon for two weeks."

"Well... I thought this might cheer you up, you haven't been quite... yourself lately." 

_Yourself,_ Dany had no idea what that meant anymore. But she knew she wouldn't find answers now. Instead, she looked at Jon, then at the Christmas tree, and slowly, warmth grew inside her chest. Little things like these gave her hope that their marriage would be a better one than that of her father and mother, that she wouldn't find herself miserable.

_Jon at least tries._

She offered him a smile in return even as her belly twisted, _I have to try too, perhaps if we both keep trying and trying, then maybe, one day it will feel like love_. 

"Thank you," she said and meant it. At the end of the day, they were both caught in the same trap, both too cowardly to escape it, they might as well doll the place up and call it home. 

"Let me help," Dany added, closing the short distance between them and grabbing a silver garland out of his hands. 

Jon smiled, then began digging through the box of Christmas decorations placed on a chair next to the tree.

"What should we use as a tree topper? There's this angel and then this... _thing_ , I guess it kinda looks like a star."

"Kinda looks like a star?" She chuckled, placing the last section of the garland on the tree, "If it _kinda_ looks like a star," she added, turning to face him, "then let's go with the ang—"

The world stopped as her eyes settled on the _star_ in Jon's hand. 

Her heart stopped too, for just a second, then started pounding in her chest like a war drum. 

Jon's lips moved, but she heard nothing, just the drums, nothing but the drums, louder and louder.

The world came rushing back in like a cloudburst and with it, flashes of images, of memories...

Last Christmas.

Jorah.

_Thump!_

Edelweiss.

_Thump-thump!_

His voice, _'you can almost believe that it was once a star.'_

Her lips on his.

_Thump-thump-thump!_

Their bodies coming together.

The radio, _that_ song, the dance.

_Thump-thump! Thump-thump!_

Snowball fights and _'I'd choose you if I could.'_

Warm baths and _'I don't wanna go.'_

 _Thump-thump!_ _Thump-thump!_ _Thump-thump!_

 _'I have to go'_ and _'Stay'_

 _'I love you'_ and _'I don't wanna go.'_

_'I have to go.'_

_Thump-thump.Thump-thump.Thump-thump._

_Thump-thump.Thump-thump.Thump-thump._

Dany shook where she stood, trying and failing to keep herself together, to push all those memories back into their box. It was pointless. It would have been easier to hold back a raging river. The memories had sprung free at the sight of the bone flower and refused to be imprisoned again. They swirled around her threatening to drown her in their waterspout. 

There was no fire burning inside Jon's and Daenerys' hearth, yet her nose started filling with the sweet scent of smoke and the smell of pine mixed with the fresh, cold fragrance of snow. She could feel the warmth of a fireplace on her cheeks and the warmth of Jorah's body pressed to hers, she could taste buttery baked potatoes and the sweetness of his kiss on her tongue.

"Whe—where did you get this?" She asked, her voice cracking.

Jon looked the bone flower over, "Found it inside the box the maid brought down."

_Thump-thump.Thump-thump.Thump-thump._

Jon narrowed her eyes on her, but she didn't notice, only noticed the relentless drumming of her heart and the four words that kept swirling up inside her head, the same words that had sent her into a panicked frenzy, almost a year ago, _'I have to go'._

_Oh, God, it's been a year!_

_Where did a year go?_

“It’s kinda shabby, isn't it? You're right, the angel is a much better choice.” Jon said, swinging his arm and aiming for the box of decorations.

“No!" Dany yelped, "Give it to me!” 

_Thump-thump.Thump-thump.Thump-thump._

_Thump-thump.Thump-thump.Thump-thump._

_'I have to go!'_

Jon looked at her trembling hand, then up into her eyes. He placed the ornament in the shaking, open palm. "Are you okay?"

_Thump-thump.Thump-thump.Thump-thump._

Her fingers wrapped around the flower so tight the bone dug painfully into her flesh. 

_'I have to go!'_

"Yes—fine, I... just remembered, there's something I need to do... I... I—I have to go," Dany turned and bolted from the living room straight for the front door. The walls closed in on her with every step, and a tightness grew in her throat.

A hand to her mouth, the Edelweiss hand pressed to her heart, Dany leaned her back to the door, looking out at the street and seeing nothing. In her tear-filled eyes, last Christmas' snow danced, fuzzing her vision. 

_'I have to go.'_

_'I have to go.'_

_'I have to go.'_

She tried with all her might to cast away the snow, the memories, and those four words, but they would not relent.

Dany listened and ran. 

—Missandei—

Sitting at her desk with a cup of tea by her side, Missandei typed away on her computer. Technically she was on vacation, after all, Christmas was only two days away, but the project her little translation firm had won was massive. The first of that size and Missandei wanted to deliver it well before the April deadline. It would set her firm apart from her bigger competitors and put Naath Language Services on the map. 

_My baby is growing,_ she thought with pride as she debated the proper transition into English of a rather peculiar Hungarian word.

She didn't get to settle on an answer, for the sound of fast, strong taps against her front door took her focus away. 

As soon as she opened the door, she knew something was wrong. The fact that Daenerys showed up at her place, five blocks away, wearing pajamas was definitely a clue, but the look on her friend's face spoke much louder. 

"What's wrong?" She asked, already feeling something tightening in her chest. 

Dany walked past her and straight into the living room, making herself into a ball on the couch.

Missandei closed the door and followed her in. "What's wrong?" She asked again with a worried frown, her mind already running wild with the possibilities. Had someone hurt her? Wronged her? Was it her bother, her father? Jon?

Dany said nothing.

"Are you okay?" Missandei asked, her tone demanding an answer. 

Dany nodded quietly and Missandei let out a breath, then sat down on the couch next to her friend.

"Is it the Wedding?" _Has the church been overbooked? Did the venue burn to a crisp?_

"Is it Jon?" _Has he changed his mind? Have you?_

None of those things displeased Missandei much. While she understood the practical reasons for Jon and Dany's wedding, as well as the complicated entanglement of their families' finances, she did not much care for it. 

Her friend had never spoken ill of Jon, nor of their future wedding, but Missandei had never thought of them as a particularly good couple. In theory, they should have been great, both attractive, young, from good families... In reality, she never saw much love between them, no tender moments, no stolen glances.

They always reminded her of an old married couple, the kind that had lost all the love they might have once had, and now all that remained was familiarity, monotony. 

A soft "No," left Dany's lips as she wrapped her arms around her knees tighter, then dug her chin between them.

The motion made Missandei's eyes settle on her friend's hand and the thing squeezed tightly there, off-white and hard, bone-like.

With tentative fingers, she reached for it. 

Dany pulled her hand away and hid it in the space between her thighs and chest. 

"Daenerys?"

Dany said nothing again. 

With a soft sigh, Missandei leaned her back on the couch and waited. In the seven years of friendship, she had learned two things that at first seemed to contradict each other.

One: Dany needed time before she could unload her thoughts, her heart, soul. She could not be rushed.

Two: She also needed a little push, someone to gently pull the words out of the mouth like twine.

Over the years, Missandei had become quite the weaver.

Her hand rested over Dany's knee, a finger caressing it, "I'll be right here... when you're ready."

Dany looked at her, her eyebrows knitted tightly, "You'll think me horrible." 

"I will do no such thing!"

Dany swallowed, "You will."

Missandei's hand left her knee and wrapped itself around Dany's free hand. "I'll never think that of you."

Dany looked at her for a while, eyes searching for something. "Do you remember last Christmas?" She finally asked, her voice low.

She most definitely remembered the worst vacations she had ever had. _Ever_. In her entire life.

It had started well enough but after being trapped with Joffrey, Viserys, and Tyrion for over 3 days she had been ready to risk life and limb and just walk the 500km home, blizzard, and all.

She nodded a yes.

"Do you remember the castle and the snowstorm? I did something bad then... _really_ bad." 

Daenerys spoke, and Missandei watched and listened. 

She listened to her friend talk of secret passages and dusty rooms. Watched Dany's eyes lit up as she spoke of Christmas morning, her hand finally opening up to show what she now knew to be a tree topper. Saw a smile blossom on her lips as she spoke of Christmas evening, saw pure joy on her feature as she spoke of snowball fights and warm baths. Saw all that get whipped off her face as she spoke of leaving the tiny house and its owner. 

She saw an amalgam of emotions on Dany's face as she continued with the story, finally stopping in the present, "I had to leave Jon's place, I couldn't stay there a second longer, couldn't look at him and think of... of..." Dany trailed off.

An affair had not even crossed Missandei’s mind. She had seen the exchanged glances over Christmas Eve diner and Dany's sullen face for most of the car ride back, yet she hadn't thought much of it, nor of their host. _I should have._

Her eyes caught Dany's expectant ones. The purple shone like amethyst.

Missandei squeezed the hand she had not let go all the while her friend had spoken, "You're not horrible. You're... human." 

"It was a mistake. All of it." Dany said, looking at the Edelweiss in her hand, then placing it on the couch. Her hand left the ornament but her eyes stayed with it.

 _Was it a mistake?_ Missandei wondered. She didn't know. She knew that it certainly complicated things, but Dany's eyes had never lit up in such a way as they had when she spoke of those snowed-in days. They had surely never lit up anytime she spoke of Jon, not even when she looked at him. 

"I'm getting married." Dany's eyes left the flower. "I can't deal with this now. I just... I need to get _him_ out of my head!" 

"Have you seen him since?"

"No."

"Talked, texted?"

"No. Nothing... I don't even have his number…

"I didn't think of him... I couldn't... If I did... If I let myself..."

Missandei nodded. 

"It's just a momentary weakness," Dany continued, her voice changing, sounding determined, self-assured. "It will pass, it will! I just need to get him out of my head again. I did it once, I can do it again!

"You did it _a year ago_..."

"Yes."

"And you are going to do it again now... _a year later_?"

"Yes!" 

She looked at Dany's hand in hers. She could hold her peace, nod, and agree with her friend, or she could speak up.

Missandei was good at holding her peace, but nonetheless, she spoke up, "Will you do it again next year?"

Dany blinked at her, "What do you mean?"

Her voice softened as she answered, "It's been a year, Dany. A year of nothing and yet... here you are." She let go of her friend's hand and grabbed the bone flower. As she placed it back into Dany's hand, she said, "It's not a momentary weakness… it seems to me that you’ve found something there, something you’ve been missing and craving for so long. You found—"

"No!" Dany cut her off.

“—love.”

"No!”

"Dany…” Missandei pleaded.

Dany's chin shook as her eyes settle back to the flower, "All of this because of a stupid Christmas ornament," she said with a tinge of anger in her voice, "I should have left it in that house! I should have thrown it away the moment I came back. I should throw it out now!"

"Do it." 

"What?"

"Throw it." Missandei tilted her head towards the small, unlit fireplace, inside the hearth, a pile of grey ash lay. "Throw it, and with it throw away all the memories of that place, of _him_ , of everything that happened there. Do it."

Dany looked from the flower to the fireplace then back again. Her hand fisted over the Edelweiss, "I can't..." She swallowed as tears built up in her eyes. "You’re right. I… I…” Her head shook as she spoke, “I can't let go of him and I can't have him..." 

Missandei placed her hand over Dany's. She could feel her friend’s pain inside her own chest, "What if you can? Reach out to him, maybe he feels the same way."

"It's been a year, he doesn't, of course, he doesn't, I left him. I broke his heart... " Dany wiped away the tears rolling down the hills of her cheeks, "I broke mine too, but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know I loved him back..." She sniffled and wiped at her nose, "He'll never know that I... that I still do." 

"Tell him!"

Dany shook her head.

"Dany..."

"I can't." 

"What if he still loves you? Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"Yes..." She said, her voice small, the faintest trace of a smile on her face.

Dany stilled for a moment and the smile died, "No, no it wouldn't. I hope he's forgotten all about me... it's for the best. I'm marring Jon in two days. The wedding of the decade, remember? Five hundred guests! More money than most people see in their lifetime has been spent on it. I can't do anything to jeopardize it. I can't risk the Targaryen name and fortune on... on..." Dany bit down on her lip.

"Do you love Jon?"

She didn't answer.

"Does he make you happy?"

"It doesn't matter." 

"It doesn't?"

"No. Not in my family. I wish it would. I wish I had the strength to say 'No', but I don't. I can't ruin my family, I can never look in my father's eyes again if I do, and Viserys... I don't even wanna think what he'd do...

"I can't, Missy. I can't!" Her lips shook again and fresh, fat tears began rolling down her cheeks.

Missandei wrapped Dany in her arms, "I'll be your family. I'll be a better one, much more loving..." she said and Dany's tears turned into sobs. 

For Christmas this year, Missandei could wish for many things, a long vacation with Torgo on a sunny beach away from everything, her business growing exponentially, an obscene amount of money, enough to help Dany out of her problem...

She wished for none of those, instead, she wished for happiness to find its way into Daenerys' life, whatever form it may take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> while writing Dany leaving I kept picturing your faces going from:  
>   
>  _Dany listened and ran._  
>   
>   
>  to:  
>   
> when realizing she's not running back to Jorah  
> 
> 
>   
>   
> Just one more chapter left!  
> 
> 
>   
> 


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